The baby babbled as Hannah carried her into the kitchen. Propping Faith on her hip, she turned on the faucet, tested the water temperature, and leaned the baby toward the stream. She soaped up one chubby hand.

“Watch out!” Ellie said.

Faith grabbed the pull-out nozzle and pointed it at Hannah’s face. Water soaked her sweater and dripped off her face.

Laughing, Grant shut off the water. “Sorry about that. She discovered the pull-out feature last week.”

“You are a little pistol.” Hannah kissed the baby on the top of the head. Sniffing her baby shampoo–scented hair, she felt the tension inside her loosen further. The love that crowded her heart when she was with the kids filled her with equal parts joy—and terror.

Faith kicked her feet and twisted.

“Can I let her down?” Hannah scanned the room. Everything appeared to be barricaded except the kitchen and hall.

“Sure. The kitchen is babyproof.” Grant picked up the dog’s bowl and set it on the counter. “Are you hungry?”

“No, just tired.” Hannah mopped at her drenched sweater with a dish towel.

“Let’s get you settled, then.” Upstairs, he led her into a guest room that smelled faintly of fresh paint. A white iron bed faced the window. White curtains framed a view of the dark woods behind the house. The soft green walls and white linens looked serene. “I’ll bring your luggage up. Ellie took your clothes from the trunks in Lee’s attic and put them in the closet and drawers.” Grant headed for the door.

She ran a finger across the glossy white window trim. “What?”

After she and her brothers had moved their father to a nursing home, Lee had convinced her to keep her few belongings, mostly off-season clothes, at his house. The cost of living in New York City is outrageous. Save your money, and you’ll be able to purchase a unit with less debt later, he’d said. At the time, she hadn’t known his anti-debt spiel was coming from personal experience, but he’d been right. She had a nice down payment in her brokerage account. After Lee’s death, Grant offered her his new place as her official address. But she’d never asked for a room of her own.

Her protest had to wait for him to return with her luggage. A few minutes later he lined her bags up in front of the closet.

“Ellie didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” Hannah said. Having her personal belongings in the dresser and closet felt . . . permanent. Her brother was playing hardball. He knew how much she feared attachment, and he was forcing her hand.