“We should wait for Nora,” said Mrs. Salas, but when Will heard the building’s front door open and turned to see the woman they’d all been waiting for there, he could tell she wasn’t camera ready.

He could tell something was wrong.

She paused as soon as she saw him, a brief but noticeable stiffening that made him think she was contemplating turning around to go right back inside. In spite of the warm weather, she wore a bulky, cream-colored sweater, stretched out around the collar and falling to the tops of her thighs, the frayed, cropped jeans she wore, faded and loose-fitting. Maybe he would’ve been able to tell more by the expression on her face, but it was hidden from him by the brim of her ball cap, faded blue with a familiar, embroidered red C.

“Oh, is that her? I thought she’d be older,” said Sally.

Will ignored her and took a step toward Nora.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, and backed toward the door.

He felt it like a slap across the face.

“Marian,” she called across the length of the front courtyard. “Can you please . . . ?”

“I’ll handle it,” Marian called back, and Will turned to her.

“What’s wrong with her?” he said, and there was nothing easy to his tone, absolutely nothing. The static was back, snowier than ever.

“I don’t think that’s your business,” said Marian, but she still had that funny look on her face, and Will saw Emily nudge her lightly.

Mrs. Salas made a tsking noise. Well, this was bullshit, this little cabal of people blockading him. Will turned away from them, moved past Yael and the photographer.

“Nora,” he said sharply, when she took another step back. “I need to speak to you.”

“No!” she said, overloud, and Jesus, this was getting embarrassing. She made a vague gesture over her shoulder. “I . . . I’m actually in the middle of something.”

Something was wrong with her voice. Something didn’t sound the same.

“It’s an emergency,” he said, an exaggeration he delivered practically through his teeth, but then he got close enough to see her.

And all of a sudden, it was an emergency. It was an emergency to him.

The first thing he noticed was the skin he could see on her chest, flushed pink and flaring all the way up the column of her neck, fading to the sickly pallor of her cheeks. The brim of her hat cast a dark shadow over her eyes, but he could still see her nose, red at the edges and oh man, big, swollen at the tip and across the bridge, and he knew without even looking what kind of shape her eyes would be in.

But he still took a step forward and gently tipped the brim of her hat back.