“The beautiful thing about Scrabble is it connects,” she said. “Connects words and people. Connected your father and me. That’s how we fell in love, you know. He said I was the only person to ever defeat him in Scrabble since his father.”

“I know, Mom,” Lynell said, frustrated at hearing the same sentimental story over and over again.

“Let me finish.” Elizabeth reached out and tucked a piece of Lynell’s deep brown hair behind her ear. “You got this hair from him, your father. Mine was always bright blonde. Your father, though . . . they all had dark hair. Him, his dad. You. Fit for a king, for a queen,” she said, holding the back of Lynell’s head and smiling down at her. “I loved him so much. Every day I’m thankful for this beautiful game that brought us together, because together we made you.” Elizabeth grabbed the “L” tile from the word “LOVE” and placed it in the center of Lynell’s hand. “Scrabble is a game of connections. Connected me with your dad and him with his father. Connects letters to numbers. Take the word ‘love’ for instance.” She tapped the “L” in Lynell’s hand and smiled. Lynell watched with a deep frown but curled her fingers around the tile as her mom talked. “Alone, it is just a word. With Scrabble, you add the numbers together and get seven. If you’re lucky, maybe more.”

The softness of her mom’s smile made Lynell’s frustration melt away.

“We let words define us every day, Lynell. ‘Mother,’ ‘daughter,’ ‘pretty,’ ‘angry.’ They create us. With this game, we create the words. We hold the key to everything. The code to unlocking whole worlds.”

DAY 6

“Dad says a good start to proving your loyalty would be showing up to family meals.”

Lynell groans and opens one eye. Zach is standing at the end of her bed, holding two plates in front of him. He looks fresher today, though there are small bags under his eyes.He’s wearing a button-up and jeans, hair brushed to one side with a slight gleam to it, like Daniel’s used to get when he soaked it with styling gel. He offers a hesitant smile.

“Forgive me, but I wasn’t hungry at dinner. Lunch was just too rich.”

“You hardly touched your sandwich.”

Lynell rolls her eyes. “It was a metaphor. And besides, I needed to think.”

She covers her face with the duvet, trying to shut out the day. She feels Zach sit on the edge of the bed and tug the blanket away.

“You told the guard who woke you for breakfast to, and I quote, ‘get the hell out of my room if you value your left testicle.’” Zach chuckles and Lynell can’t help but smile.

“I’m not allowed to sleep in? Who eats breakfast at six-thirty?”

“Working men.”

“Is this you working?” Lynell asks, raising an eyebrow.

“What can I say? There are benefits to working with your family.” He holds one plate close enough for Lynell to glimpse the corner of crisp bacon and a biscuit.