Cathy rang Sam’s doorbell. Her mother answered. Marie Bodkin wore a navy pantsuit with a thick gold belt that accentuated her tiny waist. It was a step up from the torn jeans that she’d dressed in the last time Cathy visited. Cathy wondered if she borrowed her daughter’s clothing, as she and Sam looked the same size.
“Cathy. What brings you here again?” She seemed surprised but not upset, her dark eyes shining in welcome, a slight smile on her face.
“I know I should’ve called, Mrs. Bodkin, but I was in the neighborhood taking some photos of the beautiful fall scenery when I thought I’d drop by and speak with Sam. Is she home?”
“She’s up in her room. Would you like me to call her down?”
“If it’s not too much trouble. Does she keep Charlie up there?”
“Charlie? Oh, the bird. No. He’s in
