She had no use for her children.

She had a great deal of use for looking like a woman who did.

And beneath the cold arithmetic of it, one more thing was clear, the thing that would shape everything that followed.

She was not coming home.

She was coming to perform.

Chapter 4 — Samantha Reads It

I was still staring at the phone when Samantha walked into the bright kitchen.

She was twenty-eight now, dressed simply, holding a plastic folder of wedding invoices pressed against her chest, and she took one look at my face and stopped.