“The doctor said eighty-five to ninety percent. I heard that. I have thought about that number more than any other number in my life.” Her voice was perfectly level. “And I sat by that window and I added it up. A hundred thousand dollars. Megan’s fund. What Thomas would be like for the next four years if we spent it. And an eighty-five percent chance.
“And I made a decision, Emily. I want to say that in a plain sentence, once, out loud, because I’ve never done it. Nobody made me. I sat in a chair and I did a calculation and I decided.”

The wind moved the price tags on the shrub racks.

“You looked at the window,” I said. “The whole time. There was a smudge on the glass. I used to think about that constantly — that my mother looked at a smudge instead of me.”

“I was looking at your reflection,” Karen said.

I didn’t say anything.

“You were on the table with your legs swinging. I could see you in the glass.” She put both hands around the cup. “I couldn’t look at you and I couldn’t stop looking at you, so I looked at the window. That’s all that was.”