corner, and the walls were still painted the rich cream color it took their mother two months and four different attempts to settle on, but the vibrant red sofa was gone, a soft, heather-gray set in its place. The fireplace mantel was bare, no longer adorned with photos and knickknacks, and the bright painting of jazz musicians their parents had bought during their honeymoon in New Orleans was replaced by a tasteful abstract piece in muted blue tones. It was everything familiar and yet utterly foreign, and it gave Megan a weird sense of the chills.

"There's some meatloaf in the fridge if you're hungry, and there are delivery meus right here," Brooke said, pointing toward the stack of glossy options on top of the glass coffee table. She pulled a hairband off her wrist and twisted her long, bl...

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