“By the people close to me, yes, but I prefer people I don’t know to use my full name.” Izzy played affectionately with her sister’s hair and then pulled her close. “Don’t bite your fingers. Did you get your reading book ready?”

“It’s on the bed.”

“Good girl. We’ll read it together later.”

It was clear to Flora that Izzy was sending a message.

We’re a unit. A team. No outsiders allowed.

Her nerves multiplied, increasing from a few butterflies to an entire flock. She’d expected two children who were lost and a little bereft. She’d imagined being able to help. How could she have been so naive? They didn’t want her here. She stood for a moment, frozen, suppressing the instinct to run.

She thought about Izzy’s description of her mother.

Perfect in every way.

They might as well have said there is no way you can ever match her, so don’t even try.

Flora took a breath. She wasn’t trying to replace. She wasn’t trying to match. And she wasn’t going to pretend to be something she wasn’t. Not this time. Not with Jack.

She decided to focus on the younger sister, who was probably the less scary of the two. “Do you dance, Molly?”

Molly shrank against her sister.

“Molly is a beautiful dancer,” Jack said. “But she hasn’t danced in a while.”

Flora hadn’t danced after her mother died, either. “I’d love to see you dance sometime.”

Molly buried her face in Izzy’s chest.

“Hey.” Izzy gently shifted her away. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But there’s no need to hide. We face the things that scare us, right? Come and help me while I finish fixing dinner.”

Flora felt uncomfortable. Was she the thing that scared them?

Molly took her sister’s hand and scuffled with her into the kitchen.

Flora followed them into the room. “What a beautiful kitchen.”

The room was filled with late evening sunlight. The windows faced over a garden shaded by tall trees, a lush oasis in this stark, urban desert. Close to the house was a bluestone patio, surrounded by Japanese maples and cherry trees. There were pots waiting to be planted, and Flora imagined the place in the height of summer, with color cascading from those pots.

Unlike the rest of the downstairs, this room was light and welcoming.

Molly watched her. “Mommy loved the garden.”

Flora felt a rush of hope. At least the child was still speaking to her, even if she was clinging to her sister while she did it. “I love gardens, too. I work with flowers. I could plant those pots for you, if you like?”

“You’re a guest. Guests don’t work in the yard. Please do sit down, Flora.” Izzy’s smile was bright and brittle.