For a few months, they lived in hotels, never staying in the same place for more than a few nights. Peyton’s mother told her children it was an extended vacation and “tour of America.” But Peyton sensed something was very wrong. Her sister and brother did too.

Periodically, Peyton asked her mother where her father was, why he couldn’t join them.

“He’s busy, dear.”

Peyton tried to listen in on the calls her mother conducted in secret, often stretching the phone cord into the hotel bathroom and shutting the door with the shower running. Peyton could make out only bits and pieces. Someone had lost their dog. A beagle. Her mother was very worried about it. She was constantly asking about finding the beagle, which was strange, because she had never been one for dogs—or animals of any kind.

Finally, after four weeks, her mother sat the three children down and told them that their father wouldn’t be joining them. With dry eyes, she said, “There was an accident. I’m very sorry, but your father has passed away.”

The words destroyed Peyton instantly. Andrew met the news with disbelief that soon turned to skepticism. Then anger. He asked questions their mother refused to answer.

How did he die?

When was the funeral? Where?

The lack of answers only enraged Andrew more. He shouted and argued with their mother.

I want to see him. I can see my own father. I want to see his grave. You can’t stop me.

I want to go back to London. It’s our home.

Andrew became increasingly distant. Peyton was nearly catatonic. Her sister Madison was there for her, holding her as she cried each night for a week. Their mother was stoic, withdrawn. The calls continued. The secrecy only made them trust her less. Maybe it was simply because she had been the one who’d told them, but to varying degrees, all three of them blamed her for their father’s death.

Despite Andrew’s demands that they return to London, Peyton’s mother refused to relent. They settled near San Francisco, in Palo Alto. They changed their last name to Shaw, and Andrew completed his last two years of high school, then left for college, then medical school.

It took time for the family to come together again. In fact, it took more than time—it took Andrew’s death in 1991 to finally bring them all closer again. It was just the three of them after that—Peyton, Madison, and their mother, Lin—and they shared a strong bond.

Peyton hadn’t thought about that night in London in 1983 for a long time. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered why she had thought of it now.