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Annie arrived on a humid late-September afternoon when distant thunder rumbled and the threat of rain hung in the air.

Emily had hoped for a calm clear day, when the light was at its most benevolent and the house looked twice as big, but the prairie paid no heed to visitors or first impressions.

She prayed that the storms and rain would at least hold off until she’d shown Annie around.

Emily was pickling cabbage for the winter, preparing salt pork, storing up dried beans, and organizing canned vegetables and fruit to see them through, when she heard the motorcar approach. Her hands stilled against the sink. Her heart began to race.

Annie had telephoned the general store the previous week, leaving a message for Emily with details of her arrival. Henry had driven to the train station that morning while Emily paced at the house, unable to rest or settle.

She wiped her hands on her apron, then took it off and bundled it into the copper to be washed.

She checked the house one last time. Everything had been scrubbed and swept and polished, everything washed and ironed, odd jobs finished, pictures and embroideries finally hung up on the walls, cushions plumped, bedspreads smoothed, flowers picked and placed in jugs here and there.

Whatever Annie might make of it all, Emily’s heart swelled with pride when she looked around.

It had never looked nicer, despite the gloomy skies.

Voices carried through the open window. Emily held her breath a moment, listening keenly. Annie sounded different, her accent more refined. For a voice she’d known all her life, it was like listening to a stranger.

She walked to the window and watched for a moment—unseen—as Annie took in her surroundings, her hand on her hat to stop it from blowing away in a stiff breeze that had whipped up from nowhere and sent a dust devil whirling in the distance.

She heard Henry tell Annie about their winter and summer crops, the fruit orchard and vegetable patch.

Neither of them seemed to be in any hurry to bring the child out of the car.

Emily checked her reflection in the mirror one last time, straightened her shoulders, and breezed onto the porch with a smile.

“Annie! You’re here! You’re really here!” She hurried down the steps, delighted now to see her sister, all thoughts of approval or disapproval lifting from her.

Annie met Emily with a warm embrace, then pulled back to take a good look at her.

“I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes! Emily Kelly—I mean, Gale —a proper farmer’s wife!”

“I’m getting there. Not fully fledged yet!”

“Nonsense! Look at you! All sun-browned and windswept, and whatever that is you’re wearing!”

“They’re called dungarees. More practical than a dress.”

“And so alluring! How can you resist her, Henry?”

They all laughed, but Emily felt the sting of Annie’s teasing, just as she had when they were children.

They studied each other for a moment, searching for the familiar, easy connection they’d once had and the closeness that had eluded them recently.

Annie looked like her old self again after losing the weight she’d gained during her pregnancy.

She was more striking than ever—like a Tamara de Lempicka painting—in a fashionable drop-waist dress and elegant Mary Janes, all fresh from the racks of Field’s new-season ladies’ wear collection, no doubt.

Emily felt like discarded seconds beside her and wished she’d put on a dress after all.

Annie reached for her hands. “It’s really good to see you, Em. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. We both are. And you? Dorothy, and John?”

“All wonderful.”

Emily peered over Annie’s shoulder. “Should you get her from the car? Is she sleeping?”

Annie hesitated a moment. “I’m afraid Dorothy isn’t here.”

Emily frowned. She presumed Annie was playing a prank and that Henry would appear with their niece at any moment.

“What do you mean, she’s not here? Of course she’s here!” She laughed lightly as she searched Annie’s face for the truth, but all she saw was a sympathetic smile.

“I knew you would be horribly disappointed. The poor thing developed a temperature yesterday morning. I wasn’t going to come, but Cora insisted.”

“Cora?”

“The new housekeeper. Replaced the awful Marta. She’s Irish, and a godsend. Dorothy loves her.”

“She’s really not here?” Emily’s heart sank. She’d thought about nothing else all week, and Henry was so looking forward to meeting his niece. “You’re not teasing?”

Annie shook her head. “I’m sorry, Em. I was so excited for you to see her. I’ve brought lots of photographs, though. You’ll hardly recognize her! I hope I make a decent consolation prize!”

“Of course!” Emily tried to push her disappointment aside as she looped her arm through Annie’s. “Come on. Let me show you around. I can’t believe you’re really here!”

They danced around each other like a shy couple on a first date—overly polite, too enthusiastic, filling awkward silences with hollow small talk.

Emily was glad of Henry’s good humor and easy manner.

He defused some of the stiffness, adding to the conversation when it threatened to dry up, asking Annie about John and Dorothy while Emily fixed dinner.

She kept one ear open, alert to any clues or hints from Annie, but she gave nothing away.

Emily filled everyone’s glass from a jug of iced tea and said grace before they started to eat.

“Henry was telling me about the women in town, Em. They sound like a nice bunch.”

“They are. They can be a little unconventional, but they’ve made me feel very welcome.”

“You’ll have to introduce me to them. Let me see who has replaced me since you ran away to Kansas!”

“Nobody could ever replace you, Annie.” Emily took a sip from her glass. She knew Annie was playing with her. Testing her. But she also knew there was some truth to Annie’s playful accusations. “But I’m certainly never short of someone to turn to for help or advice, and I’ve needed plenty of both.”

“I can imagine. There must be a lot to learn. A bit like becoming a mother, I guess. Although I haven’t had a group of helpful women to guide me. My sister ran away to the prairie and abandoned me when I needed her the most.” She laughed.

Emily and Henry laughed along, but it was a hollow joy. Forced.

“I’m sure John is enthralled with her,” Emily said, unable to prevent herself from prodding and poking. “He must be a very proud father.”

Was there a beat? The slightest pause?

“He is, of course. But you know how useless men are—no offense, Henry—when it comes to children.” Annie let out a long sigh.

“Poor Dorothy. Born to the least maternal woman in America. It has been a matter of trial and error so far, but she’s still alive so I suppose I must be doing something right! ”

Emily offered a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’re doing a wonderful job. As for trial and error, I know how you feel. I’m still muddling my way through here.”

Henry reached for Emily’s hand. “Your sister is a marvel, Annie. She’s done wonders with the place.

It was just bare timber walls when she arrived.

All the homely touches are her doing. And it turns out she’s quite the cook, too, as well as a more than capable farmhand. This pot roast is delicious, Em.”

Emily was grateful for his sweet cheerleading. She nudged his foot beneath the table to show her appreciation.

“And Henry is the newly crowned wheat king of Kansas,” she said. “He has made quite the impression with his machinery. He’s the envy of the town!”

Henry brushed off the compliment. “Not the whole town. Some are still suspicious of the machinery, but I guess time and harvest yields will tell.”

“John sends his regards and apologies, by the way,” Annie said. “He would have come, but business has him practically living at the office. I hardly see him. I tell him poor Dorothy will hardly recognize him if he isn’t careful!”

Emily’s mind raced as she filled in the gaps with assumptions and speculation.

“He asked me to give him a full report when I get back,” Annie concluded.

“I hope it will be favorable,” Henry teased.

“Of course!” Annie batted Henry’s arm playfully. “Oh, and before I forget, he sent on some paperwork for you, Henry. Remind me to fish it out of my bag later.”

Emily looked up. “Paperwork?”

“Nothing important.” Henry got up to refill his glass.

“Stock investment reports, or something,” Annie said.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t paying full attention when he explained.

The blight of every new mother. Never able to fully concentrate!

I can’t remember the last time I had an uninterrupted conversation, or meal.

If you’re not careful you’ll never get rid of me! ”

Emily couldn’t fully relax, conscious of Annie watching her as she went about her chores, following her around as if she were a rare species to be documented.

She asked silly questions, bemused by all the quaint little habits and routines, by the fact that the toilet was outside, and that water had to be fetched from the pump to wash the dishes.

“It’s all such a lot of hard work,” she said as she finished rinsing the last dish.

She’d insisted on helping, even though Emily could have done the job in half the time.

“Don’t you ever wish you could run the faucet, or flush the toilet, or pick up a bottle of milk from the store instead of extracting it from the cow?

When do you ever get a minute to yourself? ”

Emily invited her to sit on the porch. “ This is when I have a minute to myself. My favorite time of the day,” she said. “When the sun hangs low in the sky and the worst of the heat has passed and all the chores are done. I often sit here, just me and my thoughts, and sometimes the fiddle.”

As Annie swung the seat back and forth, Emily was reminded of the games they’d played as children.