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when they entered the cottage they could smell something good—lunch was cooking.
    Sandy bounded into the kitchen and looked hopefully at the kettle on the stove. “What is it?”
    â€œHomemade vegetable soup,” Grandpa said. “I thought you’d be turning up soon. Wash up, and sit down.”
    Megan stood in the doorway, staring at the table, which was set with three bowls and three glasses. “Who isn’t eating?” she said, and in her own ears her voice sounded strange, almost frightened, though she wasn’t sure why.
    â€œI’m not. I have to go,” Mrs. Collier said.
    Megan turned and saw her mother coming out of the little bedroom they were to have shared, pulling on her sweater. She certainly didn’t look rested; her eyes were puffy and smiling was an effort, though she hugged Megan and tried to seem normal.
    â€œI have to be gone for a few days. You’ll have a good time here. Don’t worry about me.”
    The fear inside of Megan deepened, grew stronger. “Where are you going?” There was a tremor in her legs, and her mouth was so dry it was an effort to speak.
    â€œI’ll tell you about it when I get back, all right? No, honest, Dad, I’m not hungry. I don’t want anything to eat.”
    Grandpa had ladled out a bowl of soup for Sandy. Now he picked up a plastic bag from the counter. “I made you a sandwich to take with you, anyway. You’ll get hungry sooner or later.”
    â€œOh. Well, okay. Thank you,” Mrs. Collier said, accepting the bag and taking her arm away from Megan. “Give me a kiss, Sandy, and remember, Grandpa’s the boss.”
    Sandy’s freckled face showed concern. “Where are you going, Mom?”
    â€œI’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know.” She bent to rest a hand on his shoulder and kiss him on the forehead, then kissed Megan as well. “I’ll be in touch.”
    â€œBut Mom . . . ,” Megan’s protest sounded squeaky.
    â€œYou’ll be perfectly safe here with Grandpa. Have fun,” she said, and then kissed her father, too, and was gone.
    Megan watched woodenly through the kitchen window as the car backed and turned in the side yard, then vanished through the trees. Safe? Wasn’t that a peculiar thing for her mother to say, unless for some reason they were in danger?
    â€œEat up,” Grandpa said, trying to sound cheerful and not quite making it. “Vegetable soup. Got everything in it but the kitchen sink. Keep you going until suppertime. Of course, if you get too bad off in the meantime, there are some oranges and bananas to stave off starvation.”
    Megan wanted desperately to ask him to explain what was going on. He certainly knew more than she did. She felt abandoned; it wasn’t fair for her mother to go away with no warning, without explaining, without giving Megan a chance to ask questions. Though resentment churned inside her, she couldn’t quite put her feelings into words.
    Besides, Grandpa probably wouldn’t tell her anything anyway, not unless her mother had told him he could.
    She took the chair beside Sandy, who was eagerly spooning up chunks of beef and carrots and potatoes and peas. He paused long enough to crumble crackers into the bowl, and then, after he’d eaten everything in front of him, handed up his dish for a refill. “Are there any kids to play with here, Grandpa?” he asked as he accepted seconds.
    â€œNot that I know of. May be some in another couple of weeks, when the tourists start coming up from Minneapolis and Chicago for the summer. There’s a string of cabins at the far end of the lake.” Grandpa helped himself to crackers.
    â€œAre we still going to be here a couple of weeks from now?” Sandy asked. His blue eyes were watchful, wary, and Megan went stiff, waiting for the answer.
    â€œWell, your mom didn’t say for sure, but I’d guess so.