The bed creaked, and Estelle looked back to find that Aviva had lain down on the bed, curled into a ball, and was simply gazing up at the three paintings.

“There’s something else,” she said before she could reconsider.

Aviva sat up.

“I have another surprise for you.” She sat down on the bed beside the little girl and withdrew the box from her pocket. “Open it,” she said, handing it to Aviva.

The child took it, turning it over carefully in her tiny hands. She tugged on the pink bow, letting the satin fall to the side, and opened the box. Aviva touched one of the enameled pendants gently, a peculiar expression on her drawn face.

“I got these for you and your aunt for your birthdays,” Estelle said, taking the box from Aviva’s hands. “But I didn’t get a chance to give them to you before your aunt Rachel had to go.” Estelle steeled herself against the emotion that was making it hard to speak. “I’d like you to have it now.” Estelle drew a pendant and chain from the velvet. “Would you like that?”

Aviva looked up at her and nodded.

Estelle bent and fastened the chain around the little girl’s neck. Aviva wrapped her fingers around the pendant at her throat.

“And you can keep this one safe for your aunt for when she gets back.” Estelle closed the box and held it out to Aviva.

Aviva shook her head and pushed herself up to her knees. She opened the box, pulled out the second chain, and held it out to Estelle.

“You want me to wear it?” Estelle asked.

Aviva nodded. Estelle took the chain from the child’s hand and fastened it around her own neck with the realization that Aviva had given her the pendant because she already knew Rachel was never coming back. Estelle tried to stop her tears from escaping but failed.

The death of hope was a truly awful thing.

Aviva crawled into her lap and wrapped her arms around Estelle’s waist. She stroked the little girl’s hair until Aviva’s breathing became steady and her body became heavy with the weight of sleep. With care, Estelle slipped out from beneath the slumbering child and tucked the blanket around her.

She returned to the living room and gathered the books, putting them back in their place in the hidden room. She closed the wardrobe and double-checked the apartment, but there was no evidence that a child had ever been here. She went into the kitchen and made sure that the dishes from dinner had also been put away. Though a visitor at this late hour was highly unlikely, one could not afford to be questioned about the need to wash two sets of dishes and cutlery after a meal when one presumably lived alone—