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“That’s coming from the person who still thinks shoulder pads are hip,” Charlie said.

“At least I’m not wearing a purple sweater with a pink panda on it,” Morgan said, pointing to Abby’s top.

“My kids gave me this,” Abby said.

“And you wear it out of the house?”Morgan laughed.“You’re a good mom.”

Abby wasn’t sure if Morgan was being sarcastic, but she decided to take it as a compliment.

A few minutes later, the women walked up to a charming two-story home the same color as a tin can.The house was guarded by a white wooden fence with a trellis on top and a gate in the middle.Morgan, Charlie, and Abby stopped outside the fence.

“This is Mom’s old house?”Abby asked.

“Seems to be,” Morgan said, checking the address against the numbers attached to the front of the exterior.

“Wow, this is where she grew up,” Charlie said.

Abby blinked a few times, then examined the house.“If our grandparents still lived here, I wonder if they’d be happy to see us.”

“I’d like to think so, but we know so little about them,” Morgan said.

Abby knew next to nothing about the kind of childhood her grandparents provided for her mother, but she assumed it wasn’t a good one.Otherwise, when the subject came up, Carla would have talked about her past and not remembered something she had “forgotten” to do in another room.

Abby nudged her sisters when she saw a woman staring down at them from the second floor.“Hello, can I help you?”the woman asked from the open window.

“We don’t want to bother you; we used to know someone who lived here,” Morgan said.

“Give me a minute,” the woman said, then closed the window and disappeared.

“Do you think she’s getting her guard dog?”Abby asked.

“Right, because we look like your average burglars,” Charlie said.

The woman walked out the front door and up to the gate that separated them, but she didn’t open it.The deep voice they had heard came out of a petite four-foot-eleven-inch woman.She had beautiful coal-black hair that cascaded to her shoulders and a full but perfectly proportioned figure.Her crimson dress was tailored to fit her every curve, and her style reflected her smile, which was warm and vibrant.

“I’m Maria,” she said.

“Hi, I’m Morgan, and these are my sisters, Charlie and Abby.”

“It’s nice to meet you.You said you knew someone who used to live here?”Maria said.

“Our mother grew up in your house,” Charlie said.

“It’s not ours, my husband and I rent it.Does your mom still live in Brooklyn?”Maria asked.

“No,” Charlie said.“She passed away.”

“Oh, you poor girls,” Maria said, even though she looked to be only in her mid-twenties.“Did you want to see inside?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Morgan said.

“Not at all.Give me a few minutes to straighten up.”Maria turned and jogged as fast as those little legs would go back inside.

Not even five minutes later, Maria opened the front door and welcomed them in.Abby’s nose did a happy dance when she took a whiff of the scent of peppers, onions, and garlic that wafted through the house.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells amazing,” Abby said, breathing in deeply to take in the flavorful aroma.

“Pollo guisado,” Maria said.