The Gulf sky had turned gold and pink, the cabin windows catching the fading light. Carol had gone to her bedroom — not from fear of Bradley, she explained, but because Helen had meant for me to face him first.

When he finally knocked, I made him wait. Not long enough to punish him. Only long enough for him to understand he would not control this meeting.

I opened the door. My son looked as though several layers of confidence had been stripped away since the attorney’s office. His hair was untidy, his costly shirt creased, dark circles under his eyes.

He entered and surveyed the room with a mild disgust he tried to hide. “This place is smaller than I expected.”

I almost smiled at the instinct. Even terrified, Bradley still needed to measure everything and decide where it ranked. “Sit down.”

His attention moved to the photo album open on the coffee table — Helen with her arm around Carol, the birthday cupcakes, the beach. “Who’s that woman with Mom?”