Victoria came forward with her hand already out.

Thirty-six, gold watch, that quick smile of hers.

“Alexander.

We’re all just sick about this.”

Behind her were the rest of them, and one of them I knew better than the others.

Caroline, the youngest, twenty-nine, stood back by the elevator with her arms crossed and her cardigan sleeves pulled down over her hands until only her fingertips showed.

“Caroline,” I said.

She looked at the floor tiles and said nothing, and Evelyn filled the silence in the same breath, which seemed to be how it worked with them.