Brittany came back once, on a Tuesday, to pick up her six suitcases.

She came with Sharon. She wore big sunglasses even though it was cloudy.

Mom let them in. She stood in the hall with her arms folded while they carried bags down the stairs.

At the end, Brittany stopped in the living room and pointed at the windows.

“Those curtains. I paid for those. I'm taking them.”

“Go ahead,” said Mom.

Brittany climbed onto a chair and started unhooking them, one by one. It took a long time. Nobody helped.

When she finally climbed down, holding an armful of pink velvet, she saw me in the doorway.

For a second, she looked like she was going to say something nasty.

Then her face crumpled a little.

“He told me he owned this place,” she said. “He told me your mom was crazy, and you two were spoiled. I believed him.”

I didn't know what to say. So I said the only true thing I could think of.

“Coco's leash is by the back door,” I said. “You forgot it.”

She looked at me. Then she nodded, picked up the leash, and left.

The windows looked better without the pink curtains anyway.