achingly clingy with me since I’ve been home. “Mama, up!” She raises her arms to me until I gather her up. She’s wearing a frilly white dress that is a bit preposterous for such a little girl playing in the living room—Evelyn must have dressed her in it. “Mama home.” Evelyn is not as quick as Cece to rise to her feet. She slowly stands up from the couch, brushing off her pristine white slacks. I never noticed before how frequently Evelyn dresses in white, which has always been Andy’s favorite color on me. It suits her though. Her hair looks like it might have once been blond, but now she’s
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