The crying had drawn a neighbor. Linda Miller appeared in the doorway, a vegetable basket over her arm, and took in the scene: Grandma holding me, my parents and Stella all collapsed on the floor. Her eyes moved quickly around the room. "My goodness, what's happened here? Crying like this... don't tell me it's..."
There was something in her voice, a small, hungry curiosity she couldn't quite hide.
My mother's head snapped up, her eyes blazing. "Get out," she snarled. "Get out of my house!"
Linda startled and stepped back, but then leaned forward again, craning her neck to see who Grandma was holding. "Oh, so it really is Stella?" she clucked, shaking her head. "Poor thing. Sixteen years old, isn't she? What a fate. Made it all the way to her birthday and still couldn't hold on..."
"It
