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Chapter One

Allie

I could tell from the look on my mother’s face that she was not iht be a better word, or maybe that was pity; with her, it was hard to tell so at the kitchen table, and the blueberryBakery were still slightly warrass-fed cows All the sorts of things I would’ve thought she’d appreciate The kitchen floor had black and white tiles and glass door cabinets with little panes that made me feel like the cups and plates were outside a , looking in on ht with her; she’d probably telllike thatout in the country for too long

“It’s so” My oing to do with yourself up here?”

“I don’t know I’ve been ht so far”

She broke a piece off fro “You say that now, but you’ve only been up here a week Just wait until the newness wears off—then you’ll be crying to move back to the city, where, you know, life is actually happening Are there any restaurants? Delivery? What happens if you don’t want to cook dinner one night, but there’s no one that will deliver because you live out here in the sticks?”

I moved up to Chapin, Maine from Boston because I couldn’t deal with city life anymore I had never lived in a rural area like this, where the trees outnus, but so far, I liked it I liked the feel of all the space around ht

I’d searched on Craigslist and found e, a small two-bedroom with blueberry bushes and a split rail fence There was an overgrown garden in the back that I’d been thinking aboutwith I just liked the fact that I had a yard, even if it meant a lawn that I would have to mow I’d never mowed a lawn before, but I didn’t care; I loved that the place wasnot attached to any others, that I wasn’t above or below anyone

I took a sip of e part of the reason I had fled Boston to begin as because I couldn’t be in her vicinity anymore Not that I didn’t want to be aroundaround h my mother was somehow blind to it all Hoas that possible? The few tiotten irrationally angry and said that I was jealous and ungrateful That Bill had provided for us over the years—more than just provided for us, allowed us to live a very well-off existence in a Beacon Hill brownstone—and that I couldn’t seem to appreciate the fact that there were probably ato trade places with me in a heartbeat

Bill, for his part, always gave me this wounded look whenever my mother was around, but ere alone (which I tried to e to soh he hadn’t tried to ht when I was 15

“You just wait,” my mother said “Once the novelty of this place wears off, you’ll be—” She stopped and straightened, looking out the“Noho is that?” she said