Things couldn't get any more real.

August 27th, 1.09 p.m.

Thomas blinked. Both in shock and against the sunlight. When the doorbell rang, his thoughts had leapt to Sam and to the promise of information.

'Hi, Tommy,' Nora said, wincing and smiling beneath her sunglasses. She wore a black skirt and a pearl blouse, like she was dressed for a funeral. 'I was nearby so I thought I'd take a chance and see if Ripley wanted to come home early.'

Thomas wanted to slap her. She had always played little games, but more so after their divorce. 'Seeing what the kids wanted' meant unilaterally changing the plan to suit her schedule. 'Bring them home' meant bringing them to their real home. This shit was bad enough at the best of times. How could she do it now?

Thomas glared at her.

'Where is she?' Nora said, peering around him. 'Ripley!'

'She's still at Mia's,' Thomas explained. 'You want me to go get her?'

She bit her lip. 'No, no, that's okay. I'll come back later… when I said I would.'

Two tears streaked from beneath the black lenses. Thomas was struck breathless by remorse.

Always so hard on her.

'Don't be silly,' he said. 'People in Europe are dying because of all our driving. I gotta get her things together anyway, so ah…' He shrugged. 'Why don't you come in?'

Just please-please don't mention our boy!

She wiped her eyes, then wordlessly stepped past him into the living room.

He was struck, quite against his will, by the differences between her and Sam. Nora was dark where Sam was sunny, mother-soft where Sam was still school-girl tight. What troubled him wasn't the comparison—both were beautiful in their own way—it was the comparing.

Nothing should be normal.

'Would you like a coffee?'

She nodded, taking off her sunglasses. Her eyes were red, smeared with mascara.

'You remember how I like it?' she asked.

'Two sugars, sub-Saharan black,' he said with phony mirth. 'Do you remember mine?'

'One sugar, Scandinavian white,' she said, smiling—or trying to, anyway.

The joke brought a pang to his throat. It was one of those running gags that couples use to seal the finer cracks of their intimacy. Stupidity made everything smooth.

She lingered at the kitchen entrance while he poured the water, leaning precisely where Sam had leaned the night she'd asked him to drive with her to Washington.

So far so good, he thought. Pretenses intact.

'Oh!' Nora exclaimed. 'Where's her album? You know, the photos we gave her from when Bart was a puppy?'

'In the office, I think,' Thomas said. 'On one of the shelves. Do you think that's a good idea?'

She was already halfway into the living room. 'I dunno, Tommy. I thought that…' He lost the rest of what she said to the gurgle of the coffeemaker.