“I’m going to run my errands,” I said.

“Take your time, sweetie.”

The Hiawatha store had my boots in the back corner, past the fishing gear.

Beverly was already there, Gemma’s mother, in her good coat, holding a pair of ski goggles up to the light.

“Margaret!

You’re buying boots.” She smoothed the front of her coat, which had no wrinkles in it.

“Very practical.”

“What are those for?”