She walked back toward the dining room before I could answer.

I stood in the hallway with my coat over my arm, trying to decide whether she believed her own words or had simply learned to use them whenever a question came too close.

At the house, Renata had fallen asleep on the sofa with her picture book open across her lap.

The neighbor had left a note saying she had enjoyed the company and that Renata had insisted on reading the same page three times because the bear in the story wore a hat that looked like a cooking pot.

I carried Renata to bed, then returned to the kitchen for my keys.