“And now we take out the butter and strain it through a cheesecloth—to get the rest of the buttermilk out. After that comes my favorite part: stirring in the salt. So much salt. Way more than you think you need.”

How simple, I thought. How easy, all of it. Being there with them. Learning the simple tricks of slicing the loaves—a sharp serrated knife; a firm hold; a sawing motion, back and forth rather than downward. Watching Billy scoop spoonfuls of gray sea salt and stir them into the butter.

“Hey,” I said as he closed up the box of salt. “Your bracelet . . . it’s the same as Liz’s.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah.”

“Terry and Julia?” I asked.

“Terry and Julia,” he said. He glanced at Liz. They both looked sad and I didn’t know why.

Liz reached for the bell that hung in the kitchen and rang it. Everyone came pouring in and took places around the table. Terry opened the oven door to take out the frittatas he’d cooked: egg and potato for the picky eaters, herb and goat cheese and mushroom for the rest of us. I slid onto a bench beside Lee.

Little Blanca climbed up next to me.

“Hi, there,” I said to her.

“I want bread.”

“Bread coming up.” I set a slice onto her plate.

She reached her arms out for the butter, and I was relieved to see her wrists were bare, that not everyone had these gifts but me. I spread the fresh butter on her slice, but as I looked at her happy face, I caught a flash of a gold necklace below it.

“Thank you,” she said with her mouth full.

“Sure.”

Across from me, Hunter dished himself a serving of salad with a gold-braceleted hand. Emma wore stacks of bangles on her wrists. Her neck was bare. But when she moved to tuck her hair behind her ear, I saw a gold band on her right hand—thin, simple—and I knew. Jackson’s necklace was tucked into their shirt, but I could see a hint of it. A necklace for Darius. A bracelet for James. On Mackenzie, a ring just like Emma’s.

Finally, I let my gaze shift to Lee. Not him, too, I hoped. And no—not him. I knew him well enough already, the slenderness of his wrists, the curve of his neck, the bareness of his fingers. So, it was Lee and me, then. The only two not yet officially one of them. I didn’t know what to make of it. Lee had been here for a long time.

“Goat cheese and herb?” Terry asked from over my shoulder. I nodded yes.

“And you, young man?”

“I’ll try that one, too. Since Mila’s having it,” Lee said.