The kitchen occupied one end, the dining room and living room sat in the middle, and the two bedrooms and one bathroom occupied the other end. Glass trimmed in dark khaki paint comprised almost the entire front of the flat-roofed structure. The effect of the whole was very much that of a building striving to live in harmony with nature.

She’d hired workers to refinish the floors and install white stone countertops in the kitchen and bath. Together, she and Dylan had replaced the kitchen’s knobs and pulls. They’d repainted the walls that had been painted originally and left natural the surfaces that had been natural from the start.

When they’d filled the space with her collection of simple, 1950s-inspired furniture, everything had fit as if the house had been made specifically for them.

She let herself inside. “How’s the homework coming?” she called in the direction of Dylan’s lair.

Ominous silence. Four years ago, one of her former students had committed suicide at the age of seventeen, the age that Dylan was now. That event had scarred her, and she’d been irrationally anxious about suicide, and every other danger teenagers could embroil themselves in, ever since.

“Dylan?”

No answer.

“Dylan?”

Her steps turned in the direction of his bedroom. She knocked softly on his door. “Dylan?”

Still no answer.

She’d made sure his bedroom door had no lock for moments such as these. Letting herself inside, she spotted her brother seated at his desk, one arm folded on top of an open textbook, his head resting on his arm.

He’d fallen asleep.

She crept across his messy room, as she’d done countless times since she’d become his caregiver, to make sure his chest was rising and falling.

It was.

From this closer vantage point she could see that while he might be sleeping on his textbook, the thing he’d actually been working on was a drawing. Beneath his lax fingers, a detailed drawing of a Spartan warrior scowled up at her.

Difference number two hundred between herself and Dylan: He was talented at art.

With tenderness, she considered the contour of his cheek and the way his curly hair flopped toward the desktop. Then she tiptoed from the room, struck a match, and lit the three-wick Hawaiian beach candle resting on her coffee table. She changed out her four favorite candle fragrances with the seasons. This one smelled like ocean, pineapple, coconut, and sunshine.

The trio of flames danced.

On the phone a few minutes ago, Sebastian hadn’t told her that he’d attempt to set up a meeting with the administrator of Magnolia Avenue Hospital. He’d informed her that he would set up a meeting.