The kids were fussing for lunch, and I didn’t have time to worry about all the existential questions weighing on me when preparing food for the family.

It worked so well, I spent the afternoon busying myself with the kids—feeding them, cleaning up after them, entertaining them. They made it a lot easier to ignore the dread at the pit of my stomach.

Eventually, I ended up outside in the warm sun. Behind the house was a small barn and a decent-sized pasture—an angled grassy clearing, surrounded by a stone wall to prevent errant children or animals from tumbling off the sheer bluff face at the edge of the artificially leveled field.

About two dozen animals occupied the small farm. A few angora goats, a pair of potbellied pigs, five chickens, several fat Gotland rabbits, and an adorable grump of a pony named Calvin. I’d gone out to the barn with Liam and Emma, so we could visit the animals and take care of them. One of Liam’s chores was feeding the chickens, and Emma attempted to help by mostly dumping feed all over the ground.

“Ulla!” Hanna shouted, and she walked into the barn, holding a cordless phone outstretched toward me. Flour dusted the ends of her dark ringlets, and her apron was stained with dark purple plums from the pies she’d been stress-baking.

Since her grandfather hadn’t revealed all the secrets of the universe (or confirmed Hanna’s pet theory that she was the princess of some far-off land), Hanna had been in a rather sour mood.

“Who is it?” I stepped out of the chicken pen, and I hoped it was Pan. We’d been playing phone tag all morning, with my sleeping through his calls and him not answering mine.

Hanna shrugged. “Dunno. Grandma answered and she thought they sounded important.”

“Thanks.” As I took the phone from her, I heard more feed spilling on the floor, immediately followed by Emma and the chickens squawking excitedly. “Can you watch the kids for a second?”

“Fine.” She sighed and walked into the chicken pen while I slipped out to the pasture to take the phone call in privacy.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hello, Ulla,” Elof said. I was happy to hear his voice, but my heart sank a little because it wasn’t Pan. “How are you doing?”

“Good,” I said, too earnestly. “I mean, considering everything. How are you?”

“Oh, I’ve been better,” he admitted with a weary sigh. “Although I am riding the little ego boost after being declared a very important troll by that lovely woman who answered the phone. It sounds like you and Hanna have a winsome family.”

“They are fantastic,” I agreed. “Did you need something?”

“I only wanted to give you an update. Or a warning, as it were,” he said, sounding rather ominous. “We’ve been trying to recover memories.”