The sun had just broken over the eastern hills, casting a pale gold glow over the vineyard. The dew that was still on the leaves was visible as the early light moved across the rows of grapevines, creating long shadows between the trellises. Even though the air suggested a pleasant possibility of another sunny day, Lila clung even more firmly to Regan’s old shirt when she felt the chill.
She stood amidst the vine rows, a worried smile playing with her mouth, and a pruning knife ready. It felt weird in her hand because she had never held a knife before; it was heavier, and the handle was slippery from years of use. She wore one of Regan’s old shirts, the fabric faded and smooth from many washings, knotted at the waist over a pair of old pants she found in the attic. There was a subtle scen
