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with the care of a new mother swaddling an infant, put it back in the freezer, and hugged me from behind. “You’ve been gone for three weeks,” she said. “I don’t know why you have to be so pissy the minute you come through the door. I’m happy to see you, Lorrie-Lorrie-boborrie. Aren’t you happy to see me?”
    â€œYeah, of course.” I twisted around and returned her hug. Susannah’s hair was tawny and as thick as a mane. A picture of Orion flashed in my head. His registered name was Hunting Achievement. But his nickname came from the great hunter who, according to Greek mythology, Zeus had placed among the stars.
    Was Orion being well cared for? I’d forgotten to tell anyone about the baggie of mints tucked at the back of the shelf just outside his stall. He ate them off my palm, a treat at the end of the day. As thanks, he’d lower his muzzle to the top of my head, exhaling into my hair.
    â€œMy big duffel’s in the front hall,” I said, letting go and blinking back the sting in my eyes. “I have to bring it upstairs.”
    â€œI’ll help you, if you want.”
    â€œYeah, thanks. That’d be great.” I tipped my head toward the box on the table that Susannah had left unguarded. “So, what’s the deal?”
    â€œFive kittens. They’re Pansy’s, and the runt’s a calico. We should keep her. It’s bad luck to let go of a calico.” She moved toward the box again. “Look, isn’t she cute?”
    I peered in on the squirming mass of furry bodies rammed up against Pansy, and then I saw the one in a corner—a little smaller than all the others. Pansy stared at me through dazed yellow eyes.
    â€œPoor little runt, she’s not thriving,” Susannah went on, “and she hasn’t attached to Pansy yet. But I think she’ll come around.” She was speaking to me, but she was looking at the kitten and talking in her baby voice, a voice meant to soothe. Broken things were so easy for my sister to love.
    â€œThat’s great, Susannah,” I said. “Now come give me a hand.”
    We lugged my bag, as large as a man’s body and nearly as heavy, up to my room. It had once been Mom’s childhood room, but I’d long ago removed all traces of her. Hard enough to have a mother who’d left voluntarily; I didn’t want to lookaround and be reminded of that. So Mom’s watercolors and Limoges figurines, her old schoolbooks and poetry collection, were all boxed up and stuffed in the attic. I liked my room to be clutter-free anyway. As I entered it now, it appeared unchanged in my absence. Clean and sparse. No piles, no knickknacks. Even my horse ribbons were displayed in a perfect line along the top of the window frame, not a single one crooked or frayed. But they were looking a little dust-coated. I knew I wouldn’t fall asleep until I’d wiped them clean.
    â€œAren’t you coming back down?” Susannah hung in the doorway, picking her cuticles. “We could name the kittens.”
    â€œName them before you take them to the shelter, you mean?”
    â€œSure.” Though we both knew it was a lie. Susannah never delivered to shelters, only retrieved from them. She shopped at animal-rescue centers the way old ladies prowled department stores.
    I shook my head. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m not really in the mood. All I can think about is my showdown with Gigi. This whole thing seems like some kind of brutal mind game to force me to come home. Or maybe she’s just lost her mind for good this time.”
    â€œShh, lower your voice,” Susannah warned, even though Gigi’s room was at the other end of the house.
    â€œShe can’t hear us. But she’s such a shitty guardian or executor, or whatever she wants to call herself, that she can’t be bothered to make a simple payment. What do I care if she
does
hear us?”
    It