KITTY WAS DOING push-ups on the floor of her room when Liz paused in the doorway. “You and Mary should start looking for an apartment,” Liz said. “The inspection of this house is tomorrow.”

As Kitty silently continued her push-ups—her form was excellent—a framed photograph set on the mantel of Kitty’s fireplace caught Liz’s eye. Liz crossed the room to examine it and found that the photo, which was about two by three inches, was of Mervetta and Kitty. The older woman, who was seated, wore a yellow skirt suit and matching yellow straw hat, and Kitty was crouched next to her in a sleeveless dress, both of them smiling.

“When was the picture of you and Mervetta taken?” Liz asked.

From the floor, Kitty said, “Her seventieth birthday.”

“Where was it?”

“Her son’s house. Bond Hill.”

“Did anyone else from our family go?”

“Dad.”

How rare it was, Liz thought, to be surprised in a good way by the members of her family.

“Did you and Dad go to Mervetta’s funeral?” Liz asked.

Kitty still hadn’t looked up. “Of course,” she said.