I never stopped knowing that my own security gave me options others lacked, and I used some of those options to make space for them.

On June’s thirteenth birthday, we held dinner at the Evanston house.

Nora brought dessert.

Daniel attempted to repair the old garden gate.

Warren arrived with the paper cups, a private family joke that had lasted six years.

After dinner, June wanted to see the photographs from the night she first met him.

I found the one Nora had taken beneath the museum stars.

In the background, Warren stood looking bewildered beside the model spacecraft.