Eventually, she did make it to the table with one of the scones and a cup of coffee. Her head swam. When was the last time she’d eaten? Yesterday. Lunchtime. She’d had a bowl of soup while checking the messages on her phone. Dad had called. She’d planned to return the call last night. She should touch base with him and write back to Ran, too, who’d texted her a couple of days ago. And she should check on Linnie—make sure everything was okay with her and Sam and Kate. She should …

She put her head on the table.

“Hey.” Wren walked into the kitchen. Her hand fell on Maggie’s hair. She threaded her fingers through some curls. “My hair is just like yours. Wild.” Lightly, she continued, “Sometimes I study you and think, if I’d ever had a daughter, she probably would have looked a lot like you … with Min and me being twins and all. And if I’d had an affair with your dad, my daughter might have looked exactly like you.”

Maggie laughed, a rough sound but still a laugh.

Wren gave her one last pat, then headed for the coffeepot. Pouring a cup, she said without turning, “Want to try out the wheel again? Kate’s not here to pick on you.”

“I—I’ve got some emails to answer. And texts and stuff.”

“Maybe tonight, then.”

Maggie nodded and heaved herself up from the table.

The aunt caught up with her in the hallway. “Forgot your phone, Margaret.”

Avoiding Wren’s eyes, she accepted the phone with a mumbled thank-you, then climbed the stairs to the loft and tossed her phone on the floor. Her messages could wait until later. She crawled back into bed.

“Move over.”

At the nudge on her shoulder, Maggie awoke with a start. “What—” She twisted around and sprang back.

An inch from Maggie’s face, Linnie smiled. “Wren thought you could use some company. She said you’ve been blue all week.”

Had an entire week passed? Maggie waved away the invasion of pale hair and scrubbed at the lingering tickle on her nose. “Company’s nice.” The words sounded rough, snagged on sleep and emotion. She cleared her throat and slid over to make room. “How’s Kate?”

“Kate is a girl getting what she wants. Or thinks she wants.”

“You and Sam playing house again?”

“Oh God, that appears to be the case.” She groaned a laugh. After a minute, she said, “She’s at school right now. I have to pick her up in a few hours.”

So it was probably around noon. On … Thursday? Maggie prodded her face. Swollen eyes, gouged palms—the aches registered in a bracing way. Pull yourself together. She had to get up. She would. Soon. Eventually.