“Don’t touch my arm, Ethan,” Natalie said, stepping back cleanly before his fingers reached her dress.

She turned toward me, searching my face before looking down at the four boys standing side by side.

“Did he receive the legal birth notices eight years ago, Grace?” Natalie asked.

“He signed for them at the Fort Carson garrison mail depot on June second,” I said.

“The delivery receipt cost fourteen dollars to pull from the hospital archives.”

Margaret walked slowly past Richard, her silk skirt rustling softly against the dark furniture.

She stopped two feet from Henry and sank to her knees on the floor, not caring at all about her formal lace dinner dress.