I know better now than to dismiss that particular quiet in my daughter.

Nancy’s instincts had caught the scent of the thing weeks before any of the rest of us; I only wish I had thought to ask her what her nose had found.

“Everyone’s been so attentive lately,” I went on, filling the silence the way you do.

“Your aunt Shirley brought over another casserole just yesterday.”

“Hmm,” Nancy hummed, and there was something in that small sound, something careful and withheld.

“What’s that tone for, Nancy?” I asked, pausing with the dishcloth in my hand.