The mouth was the same mouth.

The way she stood with her weight on one hip and her arms crossed loosely — that was the same, and Maya had spent a great deal of time in the intervening six weeks thinking about that stance, because she had recognized it as her own.

She sat on the floor for about ten minutes.

Then she went and looked at the framed photographs in the hall, which she had dusted eleven times and never actually examined, and found the woman again — younger, at a wedding — and then in the sitting room, on the mantel, holding a baby.

She waited for Harrison in the kitchen until nine that night.