“Wait until I park.”

“I can see them.”

Owen and Natalie were racing through the front yard under a sprinkler. Jason, Marissa’s husband, sat in a patio chair beside the garage holding a canned drink and giving instructions nobody needed.

My mother walked onto the porch. Her blond-gray hair was styled. Her coral blouse looked freshly pressed despite the late-morning heat.

“There’s my favorite girl,” she called. She meant Mia. I had learned not to react.

Mia rushed into her arms. My mother kissed the top of her head, then glanced at me. “You seem exhausted.”