The elevator opened behind me.

Margaret, Ethan’s mother, came out before the doors had fully withdrawn.

Her coat was unbuttoned, swinging as she hurried toward me.

She had driven from her cottage in Goochland after the state police contacted her.

She had been canning peaches, she told me much later, and left without finishing the kitchen or finding her glasses.

When she reached me, she did not ask a question.

She put her arms around me and held on.