The mention of it made her breath come quick because she was sure he was going to propose a group session for tonight, their first night under the same roof, though of course that would hardly be practical since it was already getting late and they were barely settled yet. Earlier, during a break in the rain—and over Tim’s protestations that they were spoiling the mood—Fitz and Corey had brought most of their things up to the adjoining rooms they’d settled on (in the north tower, second floor, looking down on the big rolling expanse of lawn that was the sea surrounding their island). She’d hardly had a chance to hang their clothes in the closets before Dick was banging the dinner gong, and what little time she did have she’d spent wrangling with Corey, who wanted to set up a kids-only room on the third floor—which was absolutely not going to happen because she could see that quickly devolving into a Lord of the Flies scenario, and Fitz had stepped in to back her up. “So what’s the point, then? Corey had demanded. “I mean, it’s just a joke. Group mind for the adults, and what—no mind for the kids?” And she’d said, “The point is we’re your parents, okay? And you’ll sleep where you’re told.”

Now, before she could turn to Tim and put the question to him—“When’s our first group session going to be?”—Paulette called out sharply down the table to where the kids had somehow managed to substitute Coca-Cola for the milk everyone agreed they needed to drink first, for their bones and teeth and all the rest, nutrition, protein, vitamin D. “Richard,” she snapped, “Ronald—you know better than that. All of you, all you kids—”

But the kids didn’t say anything, either in accord or rebuttal. The milk—eight full glasses of it—sat untouched before their eight plates while the Coke bottles rotated from the table to their lips and back again. This was their celebration too. And it had been tough on them, being uprooted first from Mexico and then from their schools and apartments in Boston and Cambridge. The youngest, Bobby Eggers, who’d just turned eight, sat there blinking at her as if he were riding a balloon somewhere over the mountains and she’d just let the air out of it.

“Come on now. I’m warning you.” Paulette clapped her hands sharply while the conversation died around her and everyone looked down the table to where Bobby, at least, picked up his milk glass and made a show of taking a swallow from it. “I’m not kidding—Nancy, boys, set an example, won’t you?”