Chapter 11

I leave the diner at the end of my shift, walking through cars in the lot and heading for the trees. Dinner is in an hour. Mom and Grandma are making a chicken pot pie—they've been wanting to make one ever since we arrived in Waindale. Apparently, my mom used to crave them as a kid and again when she was pregnant with me. I would always hear about Grandma's pot pie, how I must try it and must fall in love. All the women in our family learn this recipe by heart. I wonder what else the women in our family have in common.

Dinner is in...