“Does this need polishing?” she asked, turning the vase in her hand.

“Just washing.”

She rinsed it, filled it with water, and set it on the table.

A little puddle remained beneath it.

Neither of us rushed to wipe it up.

Lily dropped her spoon.

Hannah bent to retrieve it, kissed the top of her daughter’s head, and asked me whether there was any tea left.

There was.

I filled two cups and carried them to the table.