“What are you doing?

Get away from there!” She had flown in too, apparently, and had gone to the hospital and then come straight here — and the fact that her first instinct, with our mother dying, was to race to the shed told me more than anything had in years.

“That’s Mom’s private property, Nadine.

You have no right.” “Mom is unconscious,” I said.

“What’s in here, Brigitte?” Her face did a thing I had never seen it do — a flash of pure panic, quickly buried under fury.

“Nothing.