4
CATHERINE
“How long will you be in town?” Cara Smythe asked. I'd found a note with her phone number and the house key tucked beneath the knocker on Uncle Charlie's front door when I arrived.
She grew up on the property next to his and we'd played together as kids when I would visit. I remembered her with red hair, freckles and a blue bike with streamers on the handlebars. God, I had wanted a bike just like that, but living in New York—and with my parents—didn't allow for one, or a puppy, or running through the sprinklers on a hot July afternoon. I remembered Cara as always smiling and happy, whether we were jumping rope or sneaking around after her older brother and his friends. Her parents were equally likable and I always envied their loving relationship. My parents were the complet
