The kitchen smelled of roasted garlic and seared meat.

Tiffany stood at the gas range in a white linen apron, stirring a pan of sauce with a wooden spoon.

“Happy early birthday, darling,” Tiffany said, her voice lifting at the end like a song.

Chloe sat on a tall swivel stool by the refrigerator, staring at her phone and swirling red wine in a crystal glass.

“She cooked filet, Garrett.

Real fancy.”