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She decided not to. Yet.

“You look different,” she said instead.

“It’s the hair,” Allison said, and touched it. “Judy finally got her hands on it.”

“No.” Becca tilted her head the way she did when she was seeing something clearly and wanted to be accurate about it. “It’s not the hair. You look like yourself. Like the version of you I haven’t seen in a while.”

Allison stood in her kitchen in the November cold that came through the old window seams and felt something move through her that was too large for the moment but fit it perfectly.

“Show me the town,” Becca said. “Before it gets dark.”

* * *

They went to The Brook first because Allison went to The Brook first the way water went downhill, not because she decided to, just because it was the direction things went.

Molly looked up when they came in, looked at Becca, looked at Allison, and said “the usual and...” and looked at Becca with a question in it.

“Whatever you think,” Becca said to Molly, before Allison could say anything.

Molly turned to the machine without a follow-up question. She came back a minute later with Allison’s black coffee and something warm with cardamom and honey that Becca wrapped both hands around and looked at like it had told her something.

“I didn’t say what I wanted,” Becca said.

“No,” Allison agreed.

“How did she...”

“I don’t ask anymore. I find it goes better.”

They sat at Allison’s window table. Becca looked at Founders Square through the glass, the bare maple, the gazebo, the November quiet of it, and then her eyes moved to the hardware store sign across the way.

Colter Hardware. Est. 1958.

“That’s the one,” Becca said.

It wasn’t a question.

“Drink your coffee,” Allison said.

* * *

Nora appeared at their table in the second cup, unhurried, coffee pot in hand, and looked at Becca the way she looked at most people, steadily, taking her time.

“Becca,” she said.

Becca blinked. “I didn’t...”

“Your sister talks about you. She talks about the people she loves. It’s one of her better qualities.” Nora refilled Allison’s cup. “You have the same laugh.”

Becca looked at Allison.

Allison looked at her coffee.

“She’s always like this,” Allison said.

“I find it comforting,” Becca said, to Nora.

Nora’s expression was the closest thing to warmth she usually showed in public. “How long are you staying?”