I stood at the foot of that ramp with my heart hammering, running my palm along the smooth railing. Someone had sanded every inch of it. Then I noticed the door into the house was propped open, and a woman’s voice carried out over the music. “Dad, I think I just heard a car. Is she here already?” My knees nearly gave out. Dad? Raymond had never once mentioned a daughter living nearby.

Before I could retreat, footsteps crossed the floor, and a young woman in paint-spattered overalls appeared in the doorway holding a roller dripping with light-yellow paint. Her eyes widened the moment she saw me. “Oh no,” she whispered, glancing back over her shoulder. “You were not supposed to see this yet.” From somewhere deep inside, Raymond’s voice called out, “Janelle, who are you talking to?” I gripped the railing so hard my fingers ached.