The idea delighted. “Okay! I can make up a new one for you.”

“Not too hard. I’m new at this. For now, read me a story.”

When Adrian looked back on that summer, she realized it had been idyllic. A pause in reality, responsibility, and routine she’d never fully know again.

Long, hot, sunny days with lemonade on the porch, the cheer of dogs in the yard. The thrill of a sudden thunderstorm where the air turned silver and the trees swayed and danced. She had friends to play with, to laugh with. She had healthy, energetic, attentive grandparents who made her, for that brief moment of time, the center of their world.

She learned good kitchen skills, and some would stay with her for the rest of her life. She discovered the fun in picking fresh herbs and vegetables that grew right outside in the yard, and how her grandmother smiled when her grandfather brought in a handful of wildflowers for her.

That summer she learned what family and community really meant. She’d never forget it, and would often yearn for it.

But the days passed. A parade and fireworks on the Fourth of July. A hot humid night of colored lights and whirling sounds when the carnival came to town. Catching and releasing fireflies, watching hummingbirds, eating a cherry Popsicle on the big wraparound porch on a day so still she could hear the creek bubble.

Then everyone talked about back-to-school clothes and supplies. Her friends buzzed about what teacher they’d have and showed off new backpacks and binders.

And summer, despite the heat, the light, the long days, rushed to an end.

She tried, and failed, not to cry when her grandmother helped her pack.

“Oh now, my baby.” Sophia drew her into a hug. “You’re not leaving forever. You’ll come back to visit.”

“It’s not the same.”

“But it’ll be special. You know you’ve missed your mama, and Mimi.”

“But now I’m going to miss you and Popi, and Maya and Cassie and Ms. Wells. How come I always have to miss somebody?”

“It’s hard, I know, because Popi and I are going to miss you.”

“I wish we could live here.”

She could live in this big house, with this pretty room where she could walk right out on the porch and see the dogs, the gardens, the mountains. “I wouldn’t have to miss anybody if we could live here.”

After a quick rub on Adrian’s back, Sophia stepped away to lay a pair of jeans in the suitcase. “This isn’t your mom’s home, my baby.”

“It was. She was born right here and went to school here and everything.”

“But it’s not her home now. Everybody has to find their own home.”

“What if I want this to be mine? How come I can’t have what I want?”

Sophia looked at that sweet, mutinous face and her heart cracked a little. She sounded so like her mother.

“When you’re old enough, you might want this to be home. Or you might want New York, or someplace else. And you’ll decide.”

“Kids don’t get to decide anything.”

“That’s why the people who love them do their best to make good decisions for them until they’re ready to make their own. Your mama does her best, Adrian. I promise you, she does her best.”

“If you said I could live here, she might say yes.”

Sophia felt the crack in her heart widen. “That wouldn’t be the right thing for you or your mama.” She sat on the side of the bed, took Adrian’s tearful face in her hands. “You need each other. Now wait,” she said when Adrian shook her head. “Do you believe I always tell you the truth?”

“Yes, I guess. Yes.”

“I’m telling you the truth now. You need each other. It might not feel like it right now when you’re sad and you’re angry, but you do.”

“Don’t you and Popi need me?”

“Oh boy, do we.” She pulled Adrian in for a fierce hug. “Gioia mia. That’s why you’re going to write us letters, and we’re going to write you back.”

“Letters? I never wrote one.”

“Now you will. In fact, I’m going to give you some pretty stationery to get you started. I’ve got some in my desk, and I’ll get it. We’ll pack it up for you.”

“And you’ll write letters just to me?”

“Just to you. And once a week, for sure, you’re going to call and we’ll talk.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky swear.” Sophia locked a finger with Adrian’s and made her smile.

She didn’t cry when the car drove up—a big, shiny black limo—but she clung to her grandfather’s hand.

He gave hers a squeeze. “Look at that fancy car! Aren’t you going to have fun riding in style. Go on now.” He gave her hand another squeeze. “Go give your mom a hug.”

The driver wore a suit and tie, and got out first to open the door. Her mother slid out. She had on pretty silver sandals, and Adrian saw that her toes were painted bright pink to match her shirt.

Mimi got out the other side, her face all smiles even though her eyes glistened.

Even at not quite eight, Adrian knew it was wrong to want to run to Mimi first. So she walked across the lawn to her mother. Lina bent down for the hug.

“I think you’re taller.” As she straightened, Lina ran a hand down Adrian’s curly ponytail. And her eyebrows drew together the way they did when she didn’t like something. “You definitely got a lot of sun.”

“I wore sunscreen. Popi and Nonna made sure.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Where’s mine?” Mimi threw out her arms. This time Adrian did run. “Oh, I missed you!” She lifted Adrian off her feet, kissed her cheeks, hugged harder. “You got taller, and you’re all golden, and you smell like sunshine.”

Everybody hugged, but Lina said they couldn’t stay for food and drink.

“We flew in from Chicago. It already feels like a long day, and I have an interview on the Today show in the morning. Thank you so much for looking after Adrian.”

“She’s nothing but a pleasure.” Sophia took both of Adrian’s hands, kissed them. “An absolute pleasure. I’m going to miss your pretty face.”

“Nonna.” Adrian flung her arms around her.

Dom hauled her up, gave her a swing, then a cuddle. “Be good for your mom.” He kissed the side of her neck, then set her back on her feet.

She had to hug Tom and Jerry, and cry a little with her face buried in fur.

“Come on, Adrian, it’s not like you’re never going to see them again. It’ll be summer again before you know it.”

“You could come for Christmas,” Sophia said.

“We’ll see how it goes.” She kissed her mother’s cheek, then her father’s. “Thank you. It took a lot of stress off knowing she was away from … everything. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, but I have to be in the studio by six in the morning.”

She glanced back to where Mimi already had Adrian in the limo and was trying to distract her by showing her how the lights worked.

“This was good for her. Good for everybody.”

“Come for Christmas.” Sophia gripped her daughter’s hand. “Or Thanksgiving.”