Chapter 80
Katie
They’d painted the door to my childhood home red. That was all I could think about, really, as I stood there on my stoop,
my hand hovering over the buzzer. Ingrid, still in her scrubs, nodded.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s a small town.”
I swallowed, then pressed my finger to the doorbell. A woman—forty, maybe?—answered the door in a pair of leggings, a sleeping
baby in her arms. She cocked her head.
“Hi,” I said. “Um . . . hi.”
She cocked her head a little more.
Ingrid stepped in front of me. “This is Katie Caruso. She grew up in this house. I think it’s been sold a couple times since
then. She—”
“I wanted,” I said, “to maybe just look around? I never really got to say goodbye.”
The mom put her hand on her heart. Ingrid was right. It was a small town.
“Come on in,” she said. “I’ll make you girls some coffee.”