“There,” Margaret murmured. “That’s better.”
Marina said nothing.
She simply put the kettle on.
Olivia stayed the night.
They made up the guest room for her, with its tall bed and heavy feather quilt.
She could not sleep for most of the night.
The silence in the countryside was nothing like the silence in the city.
City silence was hollow.
Here, it was filled with sounds.
A dog barking somewhere in the distance.
A floorboard creaking in the entryway.
The wind moving across the new shingles Ethan had placed on the roof.
Olivia got up at six the next morning.
For some reason, everyone in the country seemed to wake at six.
She had no idea what to do with herself.
Ethan silently handed her a bucket.
“Feed the chickens. If you want.”
So Olivia went outside in her polished city boots and scattered feed across the yard.
Buttercup was the first hen to approach her, as though they had known each other forever.
Olivia left after lunch.
At the gate, she stopped.
She searched through her handbag for a long time, as though looking for something important.
In the end, she took nothing out.
“I’ll come for Memorial Day,” she said. “With Sophie.”
“Come,” Margaret replied. “But don’t stay for only two hours.”
Olivia nodded.
“Not two hours.”
She took Lily’s drawing with her.
At the car, she placed it beneath the windshield so she could see it all the way home.
Lily ran after the SUV almost to the bend in the road, waving both hands.
Olivia watched her in the rearview mirror and waved back until the house disappeared behind the trees.
That evening, for the first time in four years, Margaret did not cross out the day on the calendar beside the stove.
She simply forgot.
And somehow, that was the best thing that had happened to her throughout the long winter.