But first she’d have to acknowledge her blessings. She’d have to notice, for example, that I was standing in front of her, eager to help.

“Fritz, if you don’t mind my saying so, you and Amelia should try to communicate with Natalie during the whole process so that she understands your thinking.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Thanks, Delta. I think we got this.”

Natalie rolled her eyes. “Really?” She pushed her ash-colored hair behind her ears, a habit not dissimilar to Amelia’s. “How’s that?”

My stomach turned. I didn’t want him to associate me with Natalie’s rebellion.

“Why don’t you go practice the cello?” he said to her.

He opened one set of bifold doors and walked outside without closing them behind him. Itzhak followed him to the door, but just stood there with the wind blowing his hair and ears back and chose not to go out. Cold air made its way through the house again. Natalie shivered. Fritz walked down the spiral staircase and to the far end of their backyard, where he appeared to examine their cherry tree. He’d told me it was glorious in full bloom, but I liked it now, when the tree’s angular silhouette carved out negative space in the sky. Fritz circled the tree methodically, looking closely at the bark and the roots, as if he were an arborist. I wondered if he knew anything at all about trees.

I walked to the stove, picking up Fritz’s bottle cap on my way, and turned on one of the burners to boil some water.

“Fritz,” I called outside through the open door. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“He doesn’t drink tea. He drinks beer.” Natalie’s tone of voice was sharp. I felt chastised.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” I asked her.

Natalie sighed loudly and stared at the ceiling. “No.”

I took down two large rust-colored ceramic mugs from the cabinet—two of a set of twelve, probably handmade—and removed two expensive-looking tea sachets from a tin container.

I walked back to the kitchen island and sat down next to her. “I think you should talk to your mom.”

Itzhak lay back down next to Natalie. His breathing sounded like a broken radiator.

“I want to help you all,” I said.

Fritz reappeared and closed the doors behind him.

The teakettle shrieked loudly. It sounded like an ambulance siren. I poured boiling water into the ceramic mugs and let the tea steep.

Fritz joined us at the kitchen island. “It looks good.” He held his beer bottle in one hand and placed his other hand on the handle of the mug.

“You hate tea,” Natalie said.

“I do?” He adjusted his glasses on his nose.

The phone rang and Fritz picked up. “Nat, it’s Piper.”

Natalie took the portable phone down the hall.