Dad stayed back, wiping his eyes.
“Hey, kiddo.”
I looked away.
I loved Clara.
I was also furious with her.
Both things were true.
Mom began talking too quickly.
“I still make that cherry pie you loved. Your room isn’t blue anymore, but we could repaint it. Do you remember that song you girls always sang?”
Clara’s hand slipped.
The mug she was holding rolled across the counter.
“Stop.”
Mom froze.
“Clara?”
“Please. Just stop.”
Then Clara exploded.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to come back!”
Mom looked devastated.
“Because I mentioned pie?”
“No. Because five minutes after seeing me, you’re already rebuilding the girl I used to be.”
“I thought familiar things might help.”
“I don’t even like cherry pie anymore.”
Mom stared at her.
“But Sarah always loved it too. You girls liked the same things.”
Clara laughed sharply.
“There. That.”
