Chapter 2

It was love at first sight—all right, technically second sight, Leesa admitted to herself, since she had met her aunt once when Aunt Janet and Uncle Roger spent a week in San Diego almost five years before. Not much time, especially in the life of a thirteen-year-old girl who had been a bit too busy—and a bit too frightened of forming any real attachments—to allow herself to bond with two virtual strangers. But ever since, after seeing how little Mom's disability check left after the basic necessities were taken ca re of, Aunt Janet had sent both Leesa and Bradley a hundred dollars every month “just between us, for those little things young people need now and then.”

This was the woman her mother could have been, Leesa thought as she studied her aunt out of the corner of her eye while a skycap piled her four worn black suitcases onto his cart. The woman her mother could have been and should have been, if not for that crazy day in the woods so long ago. Aunt Janet looked like her mom should have looked, sounded like her mom should have sounded, and felt like her mom should have felt.

Aunt Janet was forty-eight, pretty in a plain kind of way, and slightly plump and lumpy like an aunt ought to be. Though four years older than Leesa's mom, Aunt Janet somehow looked younger, despite skin more weathered than the pale, almost flawless complexion of her sun-shunning younger sister. It was her sparkling eyes that did it, Leesa decided, and her warm smile, so different from her mom's anxious frown and glassy stare. Her dark blond hair was cut medium short, styled casually with loose curls, framing a round face whose most striking feature was a pair of bright blue eyes almost identical to the ones Leesa saw reflected in her mirror every day.

It was not Aunt Janet's inviting appearance that drew Leesa so strongly, though. What pulled her in was her aunt's obvious care and concern, so different from the aloofness Leesa was accustomed to. “How was your flight?” “You must be tired.” “Are you hungry? We can stop somewhere for a quick bite if you want.” Leesa could tell Aunt Janet was not just making small talk, but that she genuinely cared. And better yet, she actually listened to Leesa's replies.

After a forty-five minute drive south from the airport, Aunt Janet guided her blue Ford Taurus off the interstate.

“We're almost there,” she said as she turned left at the top of the exit ramp and crossed back over the free way. “Most of Meriden is behind us. Our house is this way, though, just up the road a bit.”

The “road” turned out to be a rolling two-lane highway flanked by tall oak and ash trees, with an occasional house or store tucked among them. Aunt Janet followed it for about a mile before turning onto a street marked Dursley Lane.

“If you keep going straight, it's less than ten miles to Weston,” Aunt Janet explained. “We'll never be far away when you want to come by for a home-cooked meal.”

The mention of food made Leesa's stomach rumble.

“I'll be taking you up on that, Aunt Janet, for sure.”

They turned into a long driveway in front of a pale yellow Colonial house set way back from the street. Four maples shaded the front lawn, and a row of pointy spruce trees lined the side of the house, looking almost like a row of giant dark green candles. Small gardens filled with bright red and white impatiens circled each of the maples, and an even more colorful garden fronted the house.

“Home, sweet home,” Aunt Janet said.

“It's beautiful.”

Leesa climbed out of the car and breathed deeply of the spruce-scented air. The smell reminded her of the pine freshener her mom used to spray in their house. This was way better, though.

“Your Uncle Roger should be home any time now,” Aunt Janet said. “In the meantime, you can meet Max.”

Leesa looked at her aunt. Who the heck was Max? She didn't have any cousins, as far as she knew. Why hadn't anyone told her that her aunt and uncle had a kid?

She followed her aunt up the brick steps to the front door. As soon as Aunt Janet pushed her key into the lock, Leesa heard a series of loud clicks clattering toward the door. Aunt Janet pushed the door open and was greeted by the joyful face of a panting golden retriever. She slipped in through the doorway and scratched the dog behind its ears, while Leesa stepped inside behind her.

“Meet Max,” Aunt Janet said, holding the dog's head toward Leesa.

Leesa petted the top of Max's head. His fur was soft and smooth.

“He really likes his chest scratched, like this.” Aunt Janet bent over and demonstrated. Max's fluffy tail began wagging like crazy.

“Go ahead. Give him a couple of minutes of this and he'll be your friend forever.”

Leesa dropped to one knee on the hardwood floor and draped her right arm around the top of Max's thick neck. With her left hand, she began scratching his furry chest. Max arched his head up and his tail continued wagging furiously. Leesa rubbed his chest even more vigorously. She'd never had a dog growing up, but she had always wanted one. Or at least a cat. The only pet she'd ever had was a goldfish she won at a school fair when she was eight, and the poor fish had died in less than a week.

She continued rubbing Max's soft fur, thrilled with the way her trip was starting out. Aunt Janet was great, and now Max. Leesa just knew she was going to like her Uncle Roger as well.