Cold air pushed in ahead of her as she stepped over the threshold, her gray coat buttoned to her chin.

She undid the top two bone buttons, then fastened them right back up.

“I parked along the curb so I wouldn’t block the driveway,” Rebecca said.

“The water’s already on the stove,” I said, pointing her toward the kitchen.

The blue flame hissed under the kettle.

I set two thick ceramic mugs on the counter, the brown ones with chipped glaze on the handles.

Rebecca sat down in Paul’s old chair by the radiator and immediately undid the middle button of her coat.