He'd thought he wanted to be left alone, but when she sank into the chair beside him, he felt a coil of tension in his chest unravel, and he let out a shaky breath.

"It's better than canned beans and squirrel," Carl said, cutting her a look, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"I don't think my mom was a great cook. She tried, but..." He shrugged. "She should be here. It doesn't feel right, doing this without her." And he knew she could say the same thing about her mother. About Maggie. About all of them.