Chapter Five
All during the drive up to my parents’ house, I kept fighting the urge to tell the car to turn around, to go back and either retrieve Logan so he wouldn’t be at the cottage all by himself, or stay there with him and eat turkey breast from the deli department at Safeway, then watch A Christmas Story together and attempt to explain life in the United States in the early 1950s.
I didn’t do either of those things, though. I let the car drive me through uptown, along winding 89A, until it pulled off onto the gravel road that led to the house. Of all my siblings, I was the only one who remembered the old house, the one that had been left to Kara by my great-grandfather. Not much, just flashes here and there, enough to remind me that we’d definitely moved up in the world when we ca
