Julia

“Vicki,” I said, opening my eyes wide at the sight of my friend.

Her smile dimmed as she closed the door behind her. It didn’t take her long, barely only seconds, to see the distress my mother had either failed to recognize or found worthy of celebration.

“Ana,” Vicki said, speaking to my mother, “Rosemary said not to tell you, but there’s a problem downstairs.”

Mom turned to my friend, her expression ...