THE HOUSE IN NISKAYUNA was white with gray shutters. In the back was a deck, and the Mohawk River streamed pleasantly by. To the side was farmland—I could see peach trees, corn, cucumbers, and tomatoes. The place looked like summer to me, but not the kind of summer I had ever known. Summer as I had imagined other, more fortunate people lived it.

Ms. Rothschild greeted me with a hug followed immediately by an expression of concern. “Oh my dear, you are nothing but bones.”

I knew it was true. At my last doctor’s appointment, I had weighed less than I had at twelve years old. I was skinny like someone with a disease.

“Looking at you, I want to cry. What may I feed you?”

“I’m not hungry,” I said. The truth was, I had lost my appetite since I’d been injured.

“Charlie,” she said to her ex-husband, “this situation won’t do.” She turned to me. “What are your favorite foods?”

“I’m not sure I have any,” I said.

She looked at me with an appalled expression. “Anya, you must have a favorite food. Please, explain. What did your mother make for you?”

“At home, you know, my parents died when I was pretty young, and my nana was sick, and I was responsible for the meals, so I basically made whatever came out of a box or a bag. I’m not that into food, and I guess, um, that’s why I’ve kind of quit eating. It doesn’t seem worth the bother. For a while I liked mole, but now it kind of has bad associations.” I was rambling.

“Don’t you even like chocolate?” Ms. Rothschild asked.

“It’s not my favorite. I mean, I get it, but it’s not my favorite.” I paused. “I used to like oranges.” “Unfortunately, I’m not growing them right now.” She furrowed her brow. “It would take me three months to get a crop going, but by then, you’ll be gone. The Friedmans down the road might be growing them, so maybe I can arrange a trade. In the meantime, how about a peach?”

“I’m really not hungry,” I said. “Thank you for the offer. I’ve been traveling a long time. Would you mind showing me to my room?”

Ms. Rothschild barked at her ex-husband to get my suitcase. She linked her arm through mine. “How good are you with stairs?”

“Not great.”

“Charlie said that might be the case. I have a room for you on the ground floor. It’s my favorite bedroom and it looks out on the deck.”

She led me into the bedroom, which had a wide wooden bed with a white cotton cover on it. “Wait,” I said. “Is this your room?” It looked suspiciously like a master bedroom.

“This summer, it’s yours,” she said.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take your bedroom. Mr. Delacroix said something about a spare room.”

“The bed’s too big for me anyway. I’m sleeping alone these days and probably indefinitely. When your sister comes, she can share the room with you, if she likes. It’s big enough. Or she can take a different one upstairs.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “Tell me if I can get you anything,” she said. “I am glad you’ve come. The farm likes visitors, and so do I.”

The next day, Mr. Delacroix left for the city, and my sister arrived.

My sister was not alone, though I suppose this should not have come as a surprise.

“Win,” I said. “They didn’t say you were coming.” I was sitting at the kitchen table. I did not get up. I didn’t want to have to walk in front of him.

“I wanted to come,” he said. “I’ve always liked this house, and the summer program I was supposed to go to didn’t end up working out. Natty said she was coming, so I thought I’d make the trip with her.”

Natty hugged me. “You look awful, but at the same time, you look so much better,” she said. “Both awful and better.”

“A mixed review,” I said.

“Show me where the bedroom is. Win’s mom said we could share. It will be like when we were little.” Win was still watching us, and I didn’t want to have to rise from the table in front of him. I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me, I guess. “Win can show you,” I said. “It’s the master. I’ll be along in a minute. I want to finish my water.”

Natty considered me. “Win,” she said, “could you leave Annie and me alone for a second?” Win nodded. “Nice seeing you, Annie,” he said casually as he left.

She lowered her voice. “Something is wrong. What is it?”

“Well, I move like an old woman and it’s actually kind of hard for me to get up from this chair without my cane, which I left over there.” I pointed to the cupboard. “And I get … well … well, I get embarrassed.”

“Annie,” she said, “you’re being silly.” She took two graceful, easy steps, grabbed the cane, and handed it to me.

She offered me her arm, and I awkwardly shuffled to my feet.

“Isn’t this place beautiful?” she said rapturously. “I’m so glad to be here. Isn’t Win’s mom so pretty and nice? She looks like him, no? Aren’t we lucky?”

“Natty, you shouldn’t have invited Win.”

She shrugged. “It’s his mother’s house. Of course he was going to come. Besides, it was his father who invited him, not me, so I assumed it was fine with you. Aren’t you two thick as thieves now?”

Mr. Delacroix, I thought, et tu, Brute?

“Win already knew I was coming, and he asked me if I wanted to travel with him, not the other way around.” She paused to look at me. “Seeing him won’t be awful for you, will it?”

“No, of course not. It’ll be fine. You’re right. I don’t know what my problem was back there. I suppose I was surprised. The truth is, he’s like a different person and so am I. And those new people don’t even know each other.”

“So no chance that you’ll try to rekindle the romance? It is very romantic here.”

“No, Natty. All that is done. And I have no interest in romance with anyone at the moment. Possibly ever.”

She looked like she wanted to say something more, but she bit her tongue.

We ate dinner on the porch, though I was still not hungry. Despite what I had said to Natty, I felt angry at Mr. Delacroix for inviting me, angry at Win for coming, and angry at Natty for not knowing enough to tell Win to stay in Boston. I excused myself before dessert, which was peach cobbler, and went to bed.

As would become my custom, I woke at dawn to drag myself around the farm. I knew I needed to exercise, but I didn’t want anyone to watch me. Then I limped over to a deck chair and lay down with a book.

Every day, Win and Natty went on excursions, like kayaking, trips to the farmers’ market, and horseback riding. They tried to include me, but I resisted activities.

One afternoon, they came home with a carton of strawberries from a nearby farm. “We picked these for you,” Natty said. Her cheeks were ruddy, and her long black hair was so shiny and glossy that I thought I could practically use it as a mirror. The truth was, I couldn’t remember her ever having been prettier. Her prettiness struck me as aggressive and almost offensive. It was a reminder of how not pretty I looked at that moment.

“I’m not hungry,” I said.

“You always say that,” Natty said, popping one into her mouth. “I’ll leave them for you then.” She set them on the table next to my chair. “Can we get you anything else?”

“I’m fine.”

She sighed and looked as if she might argue with me. “You should eat,” she said. “You won’t get well if you don’t eat.”

I picked up my book.

Later that afternoon, just before sunset, Win returned to the deck. He took the carton of strawberries, which I had not touched. We had not spoken much since he’d arrived. I didn’t think he was avoiding me, but I really was awful company and I did nothing to encourage conversation. “Hey,” he said.