the highway.
I didn’t care.
I was excited to see her.
Ever since my husband, Daniel, died five years earlier, Sophie and I had been each other’s constant.
Our house had become quiet after his death, but eventually we created our own routines.
Dinner together whenever possible.
Sunday-night movies.
And whenever Sophie was away at college, she called me almost every evening.
So when she announced that she had accepted a summer job at a resort three hours from home, I told myself it was a good thing.
She was
