“Arthur is going to drive him back to the house on Main Street.”

Clare unfolded the cream paper on her lap, smoothing the old creases with the flat of her palm.

“Listen to this, Evie.”

She began to read in her clear, steady voice, the soft words floating out into the summer night.

“My dear girls, if you are reading this together, it means you survived the house on Main Street.”

I swallowed the rest of my vanilla ice cream and set the empty paper cup on the roof of the wagon.

“Your father believes that authority is the same thing as love,” Clare read from our mother’s handwriting.