“I simply couldn’t miss such an important dinner with you and Sarah.” Brenda glared at me with a naked hatred, but she could not say a word without making a scene in front of the very guests she was trying to impress, and so she was forced to hold her tongue and set down her platter.

We sat, and the dinner began, stiff and polite, everyone talking carefully around the strange tension in the room, the conversation moving in cautious little circles, no one quite naming the strangeness of my sudden appearance, until Sarah, Martin’s wife, turned to me with a warm and simple question.

“And where is your little daughter tonight, Paige?” she asked, settling her napkin in her lap.

“Hazel is staying with my brother and his wife tonight,” I answered clearly.