Emily walked laps of the first floor. She hesitated outside the room of doors. Her grandmother and great-aunt were talking. Someone leaned back on a chair. Emily could hear it groan. When she was little, snooping had been her go-to solution for most problems. It felt good to be back again.
“I keep telling you,” said Blima. “It’s a package. That’s all I remember. I hid it because it was dangerous. Since our mother is gone, so I thought maybe the danger is past. But now I’m not so sure.”
Emily hid in the doorway. Dangerous. What could be dangerous that fit into a package?
“Oh,” said Sonja. “You hid it because of our mother.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” said Blima.
“It’s not complicated. Our mother was a broken barrel. She couldn’t be filled up. We couldn’t love her enough. If we
