Ten years later. The Calder Street house looked the same from outside. Same gate, same wall, same climbing plants that had gotten out of hand again. Noah trimmed them when he was home, complaining the whole time about plants that had no respect for anyone's schedule. Inside, everything had changed. It now looked more like a house filled with people. A real family. The air inside felt different. Lena's photographs covered the kitchen wall. She was twelve and obsessed with the camera she had gotten for her birthday, and she photographed everything — the garden, the street, her father coming through the door before he had his jacket off. She was good. Nikolai told her so every time and meant it. Noah was eighteen now. He had gotten tall, direct, opinionated about everything. He still played chess. Still ate his eggs with opinions about how they had been prepared. He came home from school that Tuesday, dropped his bag in the hallway, and went straight to the kitchen. "I've decid
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