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mother would spoil her rotten as usual. The thing is, Kiera
     is not my only worry.”
    Judy shifted her attention to the dogs who were now doing their best to water every sapling in the area, thinking with irritated
     resignation that Monique was determined to find an excuse—any excuse—to put off what the woman most feared.
    “It’s the logistics,” Monique said. “They have me in knots.”
    With a grunt Judy backhanded that lame excuse. Before working the NICU Monique had been an emergency room nurse, juggling
     patients, handling crises, coordinating care, as efficient and quick-on-her-feet as anyone Judy had ever known. “This from
     you, the woman who raised enough money to fund the entire crew team during school budget cuts? The woman who has juggled a
     full-time job and an ultra-needy brainiac like Kiera all by herself? The woman who—”
    “I’ve never been to Europe.” Monique appeared to be counting the stitches in the pleather ends of the weights. “The only trips
     out of the country I’ve ever taken have been to family in Trinidad.”
    Judy rolled her eyes. Judy had traveled through Europe as a twenty-two-year-old with nothing but a rucksack, a train pass,
     and ignorant bliss.
    “The truth is,” Monique said, “I’ve never had to do anything but check that my passport was up to date, make a reservation,
     and let family know I was coming. I’ve been online trying to work things out with hotels and airline tickets but it’s so complicated.
     So many languages.”
    “This is the twenty-first century, babe. When I was living in Strasbourg, I’d be practicing French or nailing down the verbs
     with a native German, and everyone I spoke to would immediately switch to English.” A memory hit her with a startling vividness
     of the painted, half-timbered, steep-roofed buildings of the old city, with their “sitting dog” windows and jutting dormers.
     “It was months before I realized that it wasn’t that they couldn’t bear an American butchering their language—they just wanted
     to practice English.”
    “Well, there’s also the issue that this wouldn’t be a chartered bus tour.” Monique rolled kinks out of her shoulders. “It’d
     be hectic and draining in an If-It’s-Tuesday-This-Must-Be-Belgium kind of way. To save time, I considered sleeping on an overnight train.”
    Air hitched in Judy’s throat as she remembered the time she’d taken an overnight train from Paris to Amsterdam. She’d slept
     on the top bunk, rocked in the berth, and dozed to the sound of rattling wheels. The scent of a clove cigarette had drifted
     up from the lower bunk. Whenever they passed through little towns, the train had sounded its long, mournful whistle.
    Monique continued, “It’s all so problematic. I’m going to have to figure out how to read complicated train schedules in multiple
     languages, and decipher taxi fares and learn the tipping customs—”
    “Oh, cry me a freakin’ river.” The dogs lunged, catching sight of another squirrel. Judy righted herself while they tried
     valiantly to pull her arm out of its socket. She reminded herself that the young girl who had tripped lightly through Europe
     had subsequently vaulted herself back home to marry Bob and birth five children and plant her feet firmly in suburban American
     soil.
    That girl was dead.
    Judy shook herself out of her odd reverie. “That’s the whole fun of travel, Monique. Learning new customs. Screwing up along
     the way. You’ll figure it out.”
    “And then there’s Becky and her disability.”
    “Becky’s not blind yet.”
    “Yeah, but Lenny’s got some hairy things on the list for a blind woman. Walking through the catacombs of Paris, for one. She
     is already night blind.”
    “So she can shop on the Champs-Élysées while you look at old bones.”
    “In a city she’s never been to? Come on, you’ve seen how she’s been behaving. She hardly leaves the house.” Monie straightened
     from touching