117 Blackwood Drive
“Oh, sweetie, how are you?”
Mom envelops me in a hug. My ribs almost crack with pain, but I don’t dare move. I breathe in the close house air, all cotton and Glade. Macchiato, Mom’s tiny, brown-and-white Pomchi, trots into the front room, his collar jingling. Wolf Blitzer intones something on the living room TV. Cassidy helps me take off my jacket as Macchiato jumps at our legs.
“Cassidy,” Mom says, reaching out. Cassidy returns the hug with one arm, awkwardly patting her back.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Snowberger.”
“Call me Jackie, please.” Mom smiles at us, eyes soft and wet. “Look at you two. I remember when you were girls, and now…” The smile drops from her face. She’s staring at my neck. The scarf’s slipped down. I hastily readjust it.
Mom kneels down
