“He spent this morning convincing Mom that I’m losing my mind over hormones.”

“Let him tell Helen whatever lies he likes,” Sarah said, her keys jingling louder in her pocket as she stepped closer.

“Our mother has been blind about men since 1982.

You move in here the second things go wrong.”

“Will he come looking for me here if I leave?” I asked.

“He can certainly try,” Sarah said.

When I pulled the Buick back into our driveway at six that evening, the porch light was off and the sun had sunk behind the neighbors’ pine trees.

Three big black plastic trash bags were piled on the damp concrete steps just outside the front door.