“Jane,” Phillip called in a singsong voice. “I brought you a little surprise!” He was acting odd, but grief presented itself in strange ways. Perhaps this frenzied excitement is a coping mechanism, Sarah thought as she followed his slight, bird-legged frame through the mudroom, which had a door leading to the back garden. Two pairs of muddy Wellingtons sat neatly on a rubber mat by the door. One adult-sized, and a miniature pair, that were pale pink with a sparkly bow at the back. There were also two pairs of gardening gloves. Both items looked damp, as if Auntie Jane and her mini-me had recently been mucking around in the dirt. One of her boys must have had a little girl. How nice for Auntie Jane. She’d always bemoaned the fact that she’d only had boys. A wide-brimmed straw gardening hat hung on a hook. Oversized dark movie-star sunglasses that were quite fashionable a decade ago dangled from the hat’s adjustable chinstrap. A smaller straw hat hung on a lower hook and had purple plastic sunglasses with specks of glitter embedded in the frames. Sarah paused, taking in the cozy tableau. Kevin was incarcerated now. She didn’t have to run anymore. The future was wide open. Someday, perhaps she would open her parents’ house in the Hamptons and re-create the memories of her past with her future children. She could always adopt. There were plenty of kids who needed homes. And she and the children would dance on the beach at dusk with the fireflies, have hot dog roasts, and go to The Palm as she did with her parents, sun-kissed, sticky with sweat and particles of sand. She bent over and gave the little pink boots a gentle pat. When I have children, I will tell them stories of their grandparents and cook and garden with them, too.

“What is wrong with you, woman?” Phillip’s angry voice cut into Sarah’s daydream. “Can’t you follow the simplest instructions?” Sarah’s head jerked up, guilty, as if she’d been caught stealing candy, but Phillip hadn’t been talking to her. He was glaring into the kitchen. Awkward. Sarah heard Auntie Jane murmur something but couldn’t make out what she was saying. Nevertheless, it wasn’t appropriate for him to be taking out his frustrations on Auntie Jane, who was a dear little soul. Sarah straightened and hurried forward. “I specifically requested that you lock the kid in her room.”

“Be reasonable, Phillip. You called Mrs. Bailey an hour ago. Hadn’t checked with me before instructing our housekeeper to give our entire staff the rest of the day off, even the gardeners. You knew I was planting. And the nanny? Seriously? You can’t expect the child to spend the entire day locked in her room by herself. It’s inhuman.”