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away from hitting her with the hammer again. “Can’t I even have a nervous breakdown without you being so damn calm about everything?”
    Penelope smiled. “No.”
    Her grandmother hit the wall with the hammer and Penelope jumped.
    Mavis examined her handiwork. “I like it.”
    Penelope rolled her eyes, wondering how much work she would have to do when her grandmother’s mood ended this time.
    This wasn’t the first time Mavis Moon had done something extreme, even by Penelope’s own generous definition of the word. About once a year Penelope would come home to find her grandmother acting strangely. The last time Mavis had planted a crop of marijuana in with the corn out back, determined to do for terminally ill patients what the health care system wouldn’t.
    It was all Penelope could do to stop her from being charged. She had, however, been arrested.
    She let out a long breath. “I’m going to the store. Do you want anything?”
    “A man.”
    Penelope stared at her grandmother’s back.
    “I can feel you looking at me, girl. Stop it right now.”
    “Where would you have me look?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe at yourself in the mirror.” She gave the wall another smack, creating another ugly dent. She gestured with the hammer. “You and me…we’re not getting any younger, you know. This morning I swore I could hear time passing.”
    “It was probably your pacemaker.”
    Mavis glared at her.
    “Do you want anything from the market?”
    “I told you what I want.”
    “And short of dragging Old Man Jake home with me, it’s not going to happen.”
    A thoughtful expression came over her grandmother’s face. Penelope turned on her heel, collected Max’s leash and went out the front door.
    She only hoped that there would be a house to return to.

Chapter Three
    W hat could have been minutes or hours later, Penelope stood on the old wooden bridge about a half-mile away, down the road that spanned the Old Valley River. She stared at the water rushing by below and pondered why every now and again life didn’t make any sense at all. Even Max seemed to contemplate the question, lying on the old planks under their feet that shuddered whenever a car drove over. Which, thankfully, wasn’t often.
    Penelope had studied the stars last night, trying to map out the future, catch a clue on where things might be heading. The same way she did every other night when there was no significant cloud cover. Only nothing had prepared her for today. She’d seen no hint of Mavis’ latest mood. No sign that she would look into Aidan’s eyes that morning and feel a tingling awareness that she hadn’t been able to shake ever since. No trace that she would be standing at the bridge now, staring down at the river wondering if things would have been different if her mother hadn’t committed suicide by jumping off the other side of this same bridge and landing on the outcropping of rocks there.
    The early evening sunlight hit her full on the back and seemed to outline her reflection in the water. She couldn’t make out her own features. The blurry image resembled what little she could remember about her mother’s features beyond those she saw in the countless photos Mavis had of her.
    After Heather Moon died, no more photographs were brought into the house. Penelope couldn’t even remember seeing the old camera her mother had once owned. Maybe Mavis had buried it with her.
    She recalled the way Mavis had mapped out the old photographs on the wall like some sort of puzzle missing half its pieces, or like a map leading to nowhere. She shivered.
    “Cold?”
    She looked up, startled to find she was no longer alone.
    Aidan stood on the bridge next to her. He had probably been there for a while, given his relaxed stance next to her. He too was staring into the water.
    “No, I, um…”
    Her voice drifted off as she realized the question was probably rhetorical. She smiled. “I think you’re about the last person I expected to