“Maren gave me a key years ago.”
“Maren changed the locks after you went through our bedroom drawers.”
Her face tightened for half a second.
Then the smile returned.
“I see grief has made you dramatic.”
I set Junie’s backpack on the counter.
“Junie, go to your room.”
Diane’s smile widened.
“Actually, sweetheart, stay. This concerns you.”
“No,” I said.