When we pulled into the driveway, Bethany didn’t reach for the plastic bag or the perfume.

She turned off the engine, looked at me, and took a slow breath.

“Ready?” “Together,” I said.

But when we stepped into the foyer, my mother was standing in the kitchen, pale, holding Colm’s phone.

“Marlo,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Colm’s gone.