Eby let the letter drop to her lap, suddenly numb to the bone. Talbert, dead? It couldn’t be. He’d been so young and full of life. Eby remembered him at her and George’s wedding, the way he’d made her sister smile, the way he’d taken her to the dance floor and held her close, making Marilee forget her jealousy. He’d known how to navigate her vain and troubled moods. Marilee had always been high-strung. Talbert had been good for her. His love for her had been a balm on the wound of their mother’s disappointment that she didn’t marry better.

Eby looked at the other letters, all forwarded at the same time from Paris. They glowed greenly, as if lit within, all bearing the same bad news. She wanted to slap them off her lap, like spiders.

“What’s wrong, Eby?” George asked, walking over to her.

She silently handed him the letter, then stood, letting the others fall to the floor. Home. They had to go home. Marilee sounded frantic in her letter. But mentioning Quinn had been deliberate. Eby loved that child. From the moment she was born, Eby had tried to be an anchor for her, letting her know that she didn’t have to become the crazy that was their family. That she could be whatever she wanted to be.

George read the letter, then rubbed his face with his hand. “It might take a few days. Roads are closed with the snow.” He turned and went back to the desk. He took the letter with him. She never found out what he did with it. She never saw it again.

As Eby stood there, agonizing over her sister’s loss, she realized her grief had a personal edge to it. This was it. The end of their dreamworld. She knew it was going to happen, she just didn’t realize it would happen so quickly. She thought the decision to leave would be theirs, that months and months from now, when they’d seen everything they could see twice, George would turn to her and say, “Let’s go home” in a way that made home sound like a haven, a place they wanted to be.

They left two days later. Lisette had wanted to go with them, but Eby said no. Eby told her to make amends with her own family before something like this happened to her. They left Lisette crying silently, the force of her emotion nearly rattling the lampshades and shaking loose icicles on the eaves outside. Eby ran back to her and hugged her one last time. “We are conduits for happiness,” she whispered to her. “Remember that.”