I wanted to stay in that moment, sitting across from my mother while the kitchen windows fogged against the morning chill.

“Harper’s just worried about Julian’s accounts,” Martha went on quietly, straightening her cardigan.

“You know how men get when their work is under pressure.

But we’re a family, Eleanor.

We look after our own.”

I took a spoonful of the warm soup.

The salt tasted real, clean and familiar.

“Where’s Father?” I asked.