A few seconds later, her voice came from the hallway.
“Mom?”
Something about the way she said it made me lower my hand.
She walked into the kitchen wearing jeans and the old T-shirt from the café where she worked.
Her hair wasn’t brushed.
She wasn’t carrying her purse.
And she didn’t even look at the car listing I had printed and left on the table.
She sat across from me.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Lily rubbed her thumb along the edge of the table.