He reached up and pulled down an old shoebox.
Mom’s entire face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
Dad opened the box.
Then took out a photograph.
Before Mom could even reach for it, someone began pounding on the front door.
I went downstairs.
My aunt Linda stood on the porch.
Mom’s younger sister lived nearly an hour away.
She looked as if she had left home without thinking.
Her hair was pulled into a crooked ponytail.
She wasn’t carrying a purse.
“Chiara.”
She stepped inside.
“Where is she?”
I caught her arm.
“Why are you here?”
Aunt Linda froze.
Her expression answered before she did.
“Your dad called me.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
I heard footsteps upstairs.
Mom appeared at the top of the staircase in her robe.
“Linda?”
Linda looked up.
Then Mom looked at Dad, who had followed her into the hallway.
