“Want drops? I have them everywhere. My eyes get sore when I’m in a drawing zone. Not that I’ve had many of those lately.”

“Thank you, no.”

“Okey-doke.” She marches toward a multitiered structure made of natural wood and mesh screens.

“You say you haven’t had many ‘drawing zones.’ Have you been too busy?” I ask while following her.

She doesn’t answer me at first, approaching what looks like Cornelius’s living quarters. “I haven’t had much success drawing lately,” she says quietly, peering down through the top level, which is a screen as well. “I have a creative block right now.”

“I’m sorry. That has to be frustrating.”

“It is. But it’ll be fine. It’s happened before. I’ve gotten through it.”

“How?”

“Patience. Waiting for inspiration to find me. And lots of Toni’s cookies.”

Bea slides open the structure’s top screen, revealing a small hollowed log with a round opening. There’s a pile of rocks nearby, a tiny tent with a birch-bark pattern, and a small pocket of fabric at the other corner that looks like—

“Is that a doughnut?”

Bea smiles up at me. “From Kate, my younger sister. She has a very serious relationship with doughnuts, and she likes to sew.” Bea turns back to the structure, still speaking to me but eyes on the log, which she bends toward, lowering her voice. “She’s a photojournalist and almost never home, so she sends us things that make us feel like she’s around. It works. Every time I look at that little doughnut sleeping bag for Cornelius, I think of her.”

I watch Bea, the concentration on her face as she makes a soft noise and peers inside the log. “You’re close,” I say. “The three of you.”

“Yes.”

“That must be nice.”

“It is. But with closeness comes conflict. You’ve seen how Jules and I are. It has its ups and downs. Ooh, there he is!” she says, her voice turning sweet and melodic. “Hi, buddy!”

A tiny hedgehog peeks from the log, sniffing around before he hops out into Bea’s hands.

“Cornelius,” she tells him seriously. “I have some news, and you might not like it, but you deserve to know. You’re not the only man in my life anymore. There’s someone else.”

Cornelius’s head pops up tentatively, small dark eyes locked on me.

“Thanks a lot. Telling him I stole you out from underneath his nose. Now he’s going to love me.”

“Eh. He’ll get over it. After a few mealworms, it’ll be water under the bridge.” She slides her hand down his quills. “Or should I say, sand under the tiny log.”

“Is that what it is? A sandbox of sorts?”

“Mm-hmm,” she says softly, eyes on Cornelius. “He loves it in there.”