“You’re going into Ashtown wearing all black?” asks Esther, whose long dress is in the customary gray of Ashtown funerals, though today’s apron is brown. Dell narrows her eyes. “All right. I give up. What does it mean if I wear all black?” I shrug. “It means you’re a professional, and you’re not dressed like a runner.” Dell looks down at her dress. “I’m dressed like a prostitute?” Prostitute is another word I learned only after I came to the city. Worker, provider, comforter, house cat, on and on—we have as many words for them as islanders have for water and northerners have for snow, but
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