Gavin squeezed Billie’s hand. “We still have some things of hers at my house. She liked to forage in the woods and make stuff—”
“I know,” I interrupted. “Painted feathers. Pressed flowers. Dreamcatchers.”
“Gavin will go get it and bring it here,” suggested Billie.
“Where will we have it?” asked Aislin.
“Is there a meadow or a clearing in the woods somewhere? Anywhere she used to like to visit?” I knew my mother’s favorite places were those adorned with flowers, but in mid-September, I didn’t think there would be many wildflowers left.
“Yes, I remember one spot she liked to visit when we went for walks before,” said Billie. “It’s in Grandbay. I’ll show you the way, and Gavin can meet us there.”
With a series of nods, everyone got up, setting our minds to this immediate task. It
