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when Erika was a toddler—covered reams of paper with fat markers—andprogressed through tempera to acrylics and watercolors, graduating to the myriad colors of pencils and pastels.
    What had ruptured that bond?
The day Erika donned the black of goth, she’d acted like she didn’t know who Ragni was and didn’t care.
Had there been warning signs? Did I do something that set her off
? Ragni knew Susan had the same questions. So many times they’d hashed them over and never come up with any answers. Other than the hope that this was only a phase and if they ignored it, perhaps it would go away.
    Perhaps
was right. It had been two years now. In August, Erika would turn fifteen. Ragni again thought back to their art years. Why, she’d not even brought a sketchpad along, let alone paints or colored pencils.
How dumb.
But then how long had it been since she’d had the energy or desire to do any kind of art? Alone or with Erika?
    I used to think I was an artist. I used to think Erika would be an artist. I used to live to create.
Her mother had told her she got her talent from her great-grandmother Ragnilda. Was there even the slimmest possibility that on this trip she might find out something about the woman that would bring her own artistic desires back?
    West of Fargo, Ragni needed a break from her thoughts and Erika’s silence. She pulled over at a rest area. “I’m going to walk around,” she said, but Erika didn’t reply. At this point, Ragni was not surprised.
    With the June air warm on her face, Ragni watched the wind rustle the leaves of the trees that shaded the walking area—the contrast between the leafy green and the intense blue of the sky made her breath catch. The fragrance of freshly cut grass reminded her of the backyard of the house she and Susan had grown up in. They used to spend summer afternoons lying on the lush carpet, looking for cloudcritters. Never had Ragni dreamed she’d one day be living in an apartment building on the third floor.
    But you can change that
, she reminded herself as she strode back to the car.
If you want a house with yard and flowers, grass to mow, and real neighbors, all you have to do is go find one. You don’t need a man to buy a house. Lord, will I ever get to that place?
When she arrived at the car, she found the car doors locked and Erika gone.
    Ragni glanced toward the women’s rest room and leaned her backside against the car to people-watch and wait.
What’s she doing in there
—
taking a bath?
Just as she leaned forward to go check, Erika ambled around the corner of the building, dark sunglasses matching the rest of her attire.
Tie your shoelaces before you fall and break a leg.
She refrained from sounding like her mother by swallowing the words that leaped to her lips.
    “You got the keys?”
    Erika shook her head.
    “But you locked the car.”
    “You should never leave the car unlocked.”
    Ragni closed her eyes. Both keys and purse were still in the car.
Don’t say it. You should have taken them with you.
    “Don’t you keep a spare somewhere?”
    “Yeah, in my wallet.” Pounding the car roof would do no good. “Along with the Triple A phone number.”
    “You don’t have to yell at me. Wasn’t my fault.” A touch of whine made Ragni shudder.
    “I’m not yelling!”
I am speaking through gritted teeth. It’s hard to yell through gritted teeth. Why did I leave my purse in the car? I never leave my purse in the car.
She crammed her fists into her back pocketsto keep from slamming them on the car, warning herself that swearing wouldn’t help either, no matter how viciously the words burned her tongue. She glanced around, searching for possible help.
    “If we can get a hanger, I can open the door.”
    Ragni jerked her attention back to the girl standing on the other side of the car. “Where did you learn how to break into cars? What kind of people are you hanging out with?”
    “Mom had to do it once. I helped. I’ll go ask those people with