Chapter 25: Dahlia

I got back to the house at quarter past eight and stood at the front door for a second before going in, listening for voices.

There were none.

My mother had most likely left for the vineyard offices an hour ago. She had always been the first person in and the last person out, long before the sun came up and long after the workers had gone home. I had grown up with that rhythm, with the sound of her car pulling out of the gravel drive while the sky was still gray.

This morning, for once in