They pulled up to an unfamiliar house.

“Urs’s place,” Elliot said, leading them up the driveway. “And, just a quick warning before we go in, don’t say anything about the mess. Urs goes on baking rampages when she’s stressed.”

They entered through the kitchen door.

“I got him!” Elliot called, his footsteps crunching. The floor was covered in grains of sugar. And then Kane saw what Elliot meant. By the looks of it, Ursula was very stressed. Baked goods covered the entire kitchen. Cupcakes, cakes, pastries, cookies; they littered every surface of her kitchen in a sugary clutter, as though they’d washed up in the low tide of some mania.

“Down here!”

Footsteps stomped up from the basement, and Ursula rushed in holding a battered muffin tin. She casually popped out its dents with her bare thumbs. When she hugged Kane he could smell the vanilla in her hair. Adeline was with her, and by the looks of it she’d been helping all evening. Flour smattered her arms like dusty bruises, and instead of hugging Kane she simply gave him a cool nod.

That counts, Kane thought. Twenty-four cold glances from Adeline.

“Dad and the boys are home but we should be fine in here,” Ursula said.

They sat at the kitchen table, among stacks of cookies and bowls of scraped-out frosting. Elliot and Adeline seemed anxious to hear what Kane had to say but Ursula was desperate for anything else.

“I made apricot scones today,” she said. “I don’t even like apricot. Does anyone want to try one? Oh, wait, actually try this batch instead. Elliot, do you still keep kosher? I can pull out the ingredients if you want to look at them. I’ve learned it’s important to ask beforehand, because one time a girl on the field hockey team said she was a celiac, which I thought was a hobby. Anyhow, I almost poisoned her. But kosher is different, right?” Elliot nodded. “Right, well then, let me find a plate. You might have to clean one yourself. Dad and Gail have been using paper ones, I think, which makes me feel bad. I guess this is a big mess, isn’t it?” No one confirmed this outright, but Ursula explained anyway. “My mother and I used to bake when my father had shifts with the fire department. Always calmed me down. Probably a focus thing? I don’t know. It’s a habit. After she died I didn’t bake for years, but this past year got me back into it. Don’t know why.”

Ursula had told Kane that her father was remarried, with two new kids. Toddlers. He could hear them elsewhere in the house, clapping and singing. Their mother, Gail, was a nurse, and she worked nights.

“Kane,” Elliot said finally, “don’t worry. We’re not mad. We just have a lot of questions.”