“I said eight o’clock.”

“Where are we going, Darla?” I asked.

“We’re taking my granddaughter out,” Darla said.

“Don’t tell Rory we’ve talked, and don’t tell Sadie anything except to put on decent clothes.”

“Sadie thinks we can’t afford a gown,” I said.

“Sadie doesn’t know what her grandmother keeps in her handbag,” Darla said, and the line went dead.

I sat on the cold wooden step for five minutes after the screen went dark.

The sun was coming up over the neighbor’s garage, turning the ice on the gravel drive a bright, hard yellow.