Noah stared at his plate.
Emma whispered, “Even if they’re family?”
I reached across the counter and took her hand.
“Especially then.”
The phone kept ringing.
I let it.
For the first time in years, my house was quiet enough to hear my children breathe.
And that felt like a beginning.
PART 4
The Presents Hidden for Six Years
Evelyn arrived at my house just after eight, carrying the tin box against her chest as if it held something alive.
By then the sun had climbed above the icy rooftops, turning the frost on the grass into scattered diamonds. Emma and Noah were in the living room under a blanket, watching cartoons with the solemn exhaustion of children who had learned too much too early. I had made coffee and not drunk it. I had washed the same plate twice. I had checked the window every few minutes, though I did not know whether I was waiting for Evelyn or bracing for Brent.
