finally broke the surface. Two strong hands pulled her out. Her dad had reached her just in time. Amy recalled the huge lecture he had given her, not for falling into the river, but for fishing without a worm.
The childhood memory made her think of Jamie. Nita should be up by now. Picking up her iPhone, Amy punched in the number. The call was answered right away. “Nita, it’s me.”
“Amy, is everything okay?”
“I’m okay. How’s Jamie?”
“Brandon took him over to the ballpark to play with the kids. Jamie’s having a great time, as always.”
Amy sighed with relief. “So listen, I’ll pick him up around six, if that works for you.”
There was a pause, then, “Sure.”
“See you later.” Amy slipped the phone into her pocket and climbed out of the truck. Glancing around the cul-de-sac, she saw that it was likely a tight knit neighborhood when her grandparents lived there. She hoped some of the residents from that era were still around and would remember her parents.
Amy headed for the house right next door. When no one answered her knock, Amy tried the next house up the road. An elderly woman poked her head out the door. Amy introduced herself and told the woman why she was there. “My grandparents, the Haddens, lived in that house over thirty years ago,” Amy turned and pointed to the old basement home by the river. “Did you know them?”
A wrinkled hand flew out to greet her. “How nice to see you. I’m Dorothy. I sure do remember your grandparents. I think I remember your mom too. Not that my memory is the best these days. But if I recall, she was expecting.” The woman smiled, “I guess that was you!”
The smile was infectious. “I guess it was,” Amy agreed.
Dorothy continued, “After your mom and dad moved away, I remember seeing you as a little girl, when you and your parents came back to visit. Imagine that.” The old woman patted Amy’s arm. “Your grandmother, Cynthia Hadden and I, were good friends you know. Even kept in touch after they moved to the coast. But I must say, I haven’t heard from her in quite a while.”
Amy nodded. “Dorothy, is there anyone else still living in the neighborhood who was here back then?”
The old woman patted her pin curls and looked up and down the street, her eyes settling on the house Amy had just tried, next to her grandparents’. “Emily Boxer’s been here even longer than we have. Try her.”
“She’s not home right now, but I would like to call her, later. Do you by chance have her number?”
The older woman disappeared for a few minutes and then reappeared with the phone number written on a small piece of paper. Amy thanked her and started down the steps.
“Give Cynthia my best,” Dorothy called after her.
Amy turned around. “My grandmother’s not doing very well. They think she has Alzheimer’s.”
Dorothy’s face fell. “Oh. Such a shame. She was so bright. Must be terrible for your grandfather. Or does he have it too?”
“Not yet. But he’s afraid it might be contagious.”
Waving, Amy continued up the street. At the next house along, a woman in her thirties with short, spiked hair stepped onto the porch. “Hi! Back again, huh? How’d you make out?”
Amy was taken aback. “Excuse me?”
“You know, tracking down the Haddens?”
Amy gaped.
“Did you find them?” The woman coaxed a package of cigarettes from her robe pocket and knocked one into her hand.
“Uh, no.” Amy was stunned. Then it hit her. Her lookalike was here!
The spiked-haired woman lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, eyeing Amy skeptically. “Did you try the directories like I said?”
Amy shifted. “You must have been talking to my—” What could Amy say? Could she suggest that it was a sister? “My sister,” Amy mumbled.
The woman choked. “Sister? You’re kidding me, right?”
Amy was beginning to wonder. Not knowing what to say next, she just stared at the woman.
“Well, your sister’s a dead ringer for
The childhood memory made her think of Jamie. Nita should be up by now. Picking up her iPhone, Amy punched in the number. The call was answered right away. “Nita, it’s me.”
“Amy, is everything okay?”
“I’m okay. How’s Jamie?”
“Brandon took him over to the ballpark to play with the kids. Jamie’s having a great time, as always.”
Amy sighed with relief. “So listen, I’ll pick him up around six, if that works for you.”
There was a pause, then, “Sure.”
“See you later.” Amy slipped the phone into her pocket and climbed out of the truck. Glancing around the cul-de-sac, she saw that it was likely a tight knit neighborhood when her grandparents lived there. She hoped some of the residents from that era were still around and would remember her parents.
Amy headed for the house right next door. When no one answered her knock, Amy tried the next house up the road. An elderly woman poked her head out the door. Amy introduced herself and told the woman why she was there. “My grandparents, the Haddens, lived in that house over thirty years ago,” Amy turned and pointed to the old basement home by the river. “Did you know them?”
A wrinkled hand flew out to greet her. “How nice to see you. I’m Dorothy. I sure do remember your grandparents. I think I remember your mom too. Not that my memory is the best these days. But if I recall, she was expecting.” The woman smiled, “I guess that was you!”
The smile was infectious. “I guess it was,” Amy agreed.
Dorothy continued, “After your mom and dad moved away, I remember seeing you as a little girl, when you and your parents came back to visit. Imagine that.” The old woman patted Amy’s arm. “Your grandmother, Cynthia Hadden and I, were good friends you know. Even kept in touch after they moved to the coast. But I must say, I haven’t heard from her in quite a while.”
Amy nodded. “Dorothy, is there anyone else still living in the neighborhood who was here back then?”
The old woman patted her pin curls and looked up and down the street, her eyes settling on the house Amy had just tried, next to her grandparents’. “Emily Boxer’s been here even longer than we have. Try her.”
“She’s not home right now, but I would like to call her, later. Do you by chance have her number?”
The older woman disappeared for a few minutes and then reappeared with the phone number written on a small piece of paper. Amy thanked her and started down the steps.
“Give Cynthia my best,” Dorothy called after her.
Amy turned around. “My grandmother’s not doing very well. They think she has Alzheimer’s.”
Dorothy’s face fell. “Oh. Such a shame. She was so bright. Must be terrible for your grandfather. Or does he have it too?”
“Not yet. But he’s afraid it might be contagious.”
Waving, Amy continued up the street. At the next house along, a woman in her thirties with short, spiked hair stepped onto the porch. “Hi! Back again, huh? How’d you make out?”
Amy was taken aback. “Excuse me?”
“You know, tracking down the Haddens?”
Amy gaped.
“Did you find them?” The woman coaxed a package of cigarettes from her robe pocket and knocked one into her hand.
“Uh, no.” Amy was stunned. Then it hit her. Her lookalike was here!
The spiked-haired woman lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, eyeing Amy skeptically. “Did you try the directories like I said?”
Amy shifted. “You must have been talking to my—” What could Amy say? Could she suggest that it was a sister? “My sister,” Amy mumbled.
The woman choked. “Sister? You’re kidding me, right?”
Amy was beginning to wonder. Not knowing what to say next, she just stared at the woman.
“Well, your sister’s a dead ringer for
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