PART 1 — The Message Was Not a Question

The peace lily rose above the SUV roof as Diane lifted it with both hands, its white flowers shaking against the late October light.

Claire stayed at the front window, one hand resting on the sill.

Mark’s message was still open on her laptop: My mother is moving in.

She read the last three words again.

Not “might move in.” Not “can she stay for a while?”

Moving in.

Claire closed the laptop.

An hour earlier, at 4:17, the kitchen clock had said 4:21.

It had been four minutes fast for so long that she usually ignored it.

She had been halfway through the last section of a report when Mark’s message appeared.

She picked up her phone and called him.

He answered on the fourth ring.

“Claire?”

“Your text says your mother is moving in.”

There was a short pause.

“I was only trying to help.”

“That wasn’t my question.”