Amelia’s finger traced the rim of the delicate china teacup. The human spirit takes comfort and solace from quite ordinary things: cows milling about in a pasture, a comfortable chair like this, the tinkle of wind chimes.

A cup of tea with her friends on this porch and Sunday dinners with their ever-increasing surrogate family were now among the happy routines in her life. Even winter, her least favorite season, had become more bearable, with its hot cocoa topped with tiny marshmallows, long hot baths, and snuggling beneath her down comforter. And best of all, Miriam and Sadie were a part of her life—her unexpected family.

Her attention was drawn to a taxi that entered Cove Road, slowed, turned into Max’s driveway across the street, and pulled up to his farmhouse. The short, heavy woman and bearded man who disembarked and plodded up onto the front porch reminded Amelia of Russian immigrants in a movie she had seen recently on late-night television. Several large suitcases were deposited on Max’s front porch, then the taxi rolled away.

The man helped the woman to a porch chair, then walked briskly to the front door. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar. She watched as the man carried the luggage into Max and Hannah’s house, then assisted the woman from the chair, and Amelia realized that the woman was very pregnant, not fat. The front door closed behind them and light flooded the downstairs windows.

Max’s son and his wife?

Could it be Max’s son and his wife? No, they live in India. Hannah would have said something, would have been there to greet them. After all, she is Max’s wife, even if she lives with Grace and me most of the time.

Shadows moved across Max’s downstairs windows. Who were they? It was Saturday, Hannah and Max’s private day. Max would never invite anyone to visit on Saturday.

Hannah usually stayed at Max’s on Friday nights, but she had been here last night. Grace’s companion, Bob, and Max had come for dinner, and they had all played Trivial Pursuit and talked about getting a dog. Grace had wandered into a shop in Asheville and seen a puppy she’d fallen in love with and been sorely tempted to bring home.

“Why would you want the mess of raising a puppy? Get an older, house-trained dog from a shelter,” Hannah had said.

“Oh, don’t do that. Get a dog from the Compassionate Animal Network. Their members raise the dogs from puppies,” Bob said. “I think you’d find they’re well socialized, too. When you get a dog from a shelter you have no idea what you’re bringing home.”

There had been much talk, but nothing had been decided.