“Shame you couldn’t give those poor souls my apartment to stay in,” Pop said.

“But—you’ll be needing that when you come back.”

We’d just got word that after six months, Pop would finally come home in the first week of July. His ribs were healed up and he’d swapped his walker for a cane to get around.

“Of course, of course,” Pop said. “I just meant if I wasn’t needing that old apartment out back . . . one of them could have had it.”

It was true, and something I asked Luca about a few nights later, over dinner: why we had a perfectly good granny apartment sitting empty while all those refugees had to stay in a run-down old quarantine station with toilets that were overflowing and heating that wasn’t always working.

“Plus, Mom. You clean all those big houses that are empty now over winter,” Sam added. “They should have just let the refugees stay in them since no one else is.”

I could tell Anika and Luca were a little impressed and surprised by Sam’s words.

“That is true, yes,” Anika said. “But the government wanted the refugees all in one place so they’d be easier to look after. And it’s a very big favor to ask of people, letting strangers into their homes.” She took a sip of water and cleared her throat. “And anyway, there’s not much room in Pop’s apartment right now.”

I put my knife and fork down and looked between them. “What do you mean?”

I watched Anika’s cheeks turn a little red. “Well,” she started, “we didn’t think you’d—”

“It’s where we’ve been storing the baby’s things,” Luca interrupted. “Out of the way until we’re ready to set it all up.” I hadn’t been inside Pop’s apartment for months; it was bad enough staring at it from the back porch or kitchen window, knowing it was sitting there empty and waiting for him, same as me.

“But—you have to get rid of them,” I said, and then frowned when I thought how that must sound. “I mean—you can’t keep them there! Pop’s coming back soon, and he’ll need his apartment.”

I thought I saw Luca shake his head at Anika, only a little—but maybe I imagined it. I was stuck on knowing that Pop’s apartment, which he needed back, was full of things for Drumlin.

The next question on the tip of my tongue was where the baby would stay when the time came. Luca beat me to it.