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Biddy gasps softly. “Emma’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

Babs reaches for one of my hands, and Biddy immediately claims the other as though the decision has already been made. “Come on.”

I laugh as they start tugging me across the grass. “Hang on. Where are we going?”

“Our blanket,” Babs says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

They drop onto a picnic blanket, and Babs pats the spot beside her. “You sit here.”

I laugh and fold myself onto the blanket.

Biddy watches me with bright gray eyes. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I like purple.”

“It’s prettier,” Babs agrees.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” As I reach for the crayon, she notices the daisy chain around my wrist. “Ooh.” She strokes one of the tiny flowers with her fingertip. “Did you make it?”

“I bought coffee this morning and the lady serving me put it on my wrist.”

Her eyes get even bigger. “You know flower crowns?”

“I used to make them.”

“Good.” Babs jumps to her feet. “We’re making them now.”

Five minutes later we’re surrounded by daisies, clover, and dandelions.

Babs carefully lines her flowers into neat little piles as Biddy lifts one after another to her nose. “This one smells nice.”

“They all smell like flowers,” Babs says.

“They smell different.”

A soccer ball rolls across the grass and bumps into Babs’s sneaker. She snatches it up. “Race you!”

She tears across the grass before I can answer.

I chase after her with Biddy hurrying behind us, all three of us laughing by the time we reach the path. Halfway there she suddenly stops, crouches beside the path and scoops up a tiny ladybug.

“You all right?” I call.

“He was walking.”

She carries him to a patch of daisies and watches him crawl onto a leaf before running after us again.

“He would’ve been fine,” Babs shouts.

“He might’ve got lost.”

By the time I catch them we’re all laughing, kicking the football between us until Babs decides she’s finished with it and lets it roll away.

Biddy tugs on my sleeve. “There’s Daddy.”