Sorrel had gone straight to the kitchen, cut herself a slice of the shortcake, and eaten it with the expression of a woman doing something distasteful as a favor.

“It’s fine,” Sorrel had said around a mouthful.

“Mom makes hers moister, but it’s fine.”

Ansel had heard his sister say it, and he had smiled the way he always smiled, the smile that meant he was not going to do anything.

“Leave it alone, honey.

You know how they are.”