That night, Nora sat stiffly at our kitchen table.
« Thank you for dinner, Mr. Ross, » she said.
« It’s spaghetti sauce from a jar, sweetie. You don’t have to thank me for that. »
Nora looked down. « I just don’t want to be trouble. »
Emily stole one of her garlic knots. « Too late. You’re basically my sister. »
« You always make too much. »
***
After that, Nora came over often. She folded napkins without being asked and never took the last cookie.
For a while, the three of us almost felt whole.
Then Abigail’s parents, Carla and Grant, started noticing.
Continue on the next page:
