She wondered if the boys ever thought of the caves, sitting inside those temporary shelters. She wondered if they had conversations with each other about their childhood. She would forever wonder if she had protected them enough. Not a question she could ask. Not now.

The parrot-sitting job had not come to an end as agreed. Cecilia Grand phoned Gwen at home to say that she and her husband had been obliged to extend their visit to LA. Could Gwen continue to go to the house until the last week of December? They’d definitely be back before New Year’s Eve. For the moment, their daughter still needed them, and they couldn’t abandon her, not at this time. Not before Christmas; they just couldn’t. Cecilia assured Gwen that she had booked a flight for the twenty-eighth; reservations were definite. She was counting on Gwen’s goodwill to continue caring for Rico.

Gwen had already put in more than the seven weeks she’d initially promised, but she wasn’t upset about the extension. She knew she’d miss Rico when the owners decided to come home, if they ever did. Bury the thought, she told herself. I am not taking on a full-time parrot. Parrots bond, so an owner can’t very well pass one on to someone else. Rico and I have a tentative bond, but that might be pure luck. And parrots can outlive their humans; some live sixty, even eighty years. No, I’ll carry on with the job until the end of December, and that’s it.

“Face up, Gwen,” she said aloud. “You know you’re fond of Rico. You have admitted him to your life.”

SHE STOOD AT THE KITCHEN WINDOW and wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. Allam, too, had been admitted to her life—in a tentative way. He was becoming her friend. It had been a long time since a man had come calling at her door.

A few days after Hazzley distributed the contact list to the company members, Allam phoned Gwen and asked if he could stop by to drop something off. He arrived at her front door on foot and told her he often walked through her neighbourhood, just hadn’t known she was there. He presented her with a gift, a slender paperback. He’d ordered it from the bookstore because several weeks ago she had asked about the title. It was a book of stories, the book his daughter had told him about: Holy Days of Obligation. He announced this slowly, and held the book so that she could see the cover. It was by a writer named Zettell.

Gwen was surprised and pleased. She remembered asking about the title, but she hadn’t expected him to order a copy for her. She invited him in, and they sat across from each other at the kitchen table and drank tea. Allam told her about his long walks through different areas of the city, and how he and Tom were working together on a couple of projects.

“Toe-mas is a kind man,” Allam told her. “I visit him at his shop. We are like good brothers, getting along.” He told her about two new Syrian families arriving in the city, and his involvement with the refugee community.