“Will they have children?”

Stephie shrugs. “I hope they have a dog,” she says.

“Will there be a piano?” Nellie asks for the hundredth time.

“Of course there will,” Stephie assures her.

Stephie knows how badly Nellie misses their piano. She had just started lessons when they had to move out of their spacious apartment by the park with the huge Ferris wheel. If it had been up to Mamma, they would have taken the piano with them, despite the fact that it would nearly have filled up the entire single room they were forced to move into. But Papa refused.

“There’s barely space for four beds as it is,” he said. “Do you think we could sleep on the piano?”

The boat has left the river now and is out on the open sea. They pass rocky cliffs and lots of little islets. It’s windier out here, and dark clouds are gathering at the horizon. Nellie tugs at her sister’s coat sleeve.

“Stephie, will there really be one? Are you sure?”

“What?”

“A piano I can play,” says Nellie. “Will there?”

“Yes, yes,” Stephie promises her. “But do stop nagging!”

Nellie starts humming a children’s song, one of the melodies she knows on the piano. Nellie has their mother’s beautiful voice, while Stephie can hardly carry a tune.

The boat passes a peninsula. The wind hits, and the boat starts to rock. Stephie hangs on to the rail.

“I’m cold,” Nellie says.

“Go on inside, then.”

Nellie hesitates. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Not yet,” says Stephie. The deck has begun to roll under her feet. She’s feeling queasy. The sky is getting darker and thunder roars from afar. Nellie heads for the cabin, then changes her mind and comes back.

“Go on in,” says Stephie. “I won’t be long.”

She clings to the rail, eyes shut tight. The boat rocks from side to side. Stephie cranes over the water and vomits. Her throat is burning and she feels exhausted and dizzy.