Chapter 4: The Flags

Linus looked down at his fox.

"Dad said Mom might not come back," he said.

"Dad is tired," Imogen said, and put a bowl of pasta in front of him. "Eat while it's hot."

He picked up his fork and didn't use it.

Abel stood on the lawn beside me with his hands in his pockets.

"I can hear them through the glass," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I can't go in at midnight."

"Come back tomorrow," I said. "Please. Bring something. People bring things."

"That," Abel said, "is my grandmother's entire business."

At ten the next morning Abel rang my doorbell with a casserole dish wrapped in a towel.

"Hattie bakes for families before the funeral," he told the empty hallway, which was me. "She says it's polite to bake for them before, too."

Keegan opened the door in last night's suit with his tie pulled loose.

His eyes were red, but his jaw was neatly shaved.

"Mr. Quincy," he said. "Thank you for what you did. I was in shock."

"You said she was acting."

"Everyone says things."

Abel held out the dish. "May I?"

Keegan stepped back and let him in.

I slipped in beside Abel, close enough that the rubber band didn't pull, and walked down my own hallway.

My coat was still on its hook.

My reading glasses lay on the telephone table where I'd left them.

Imogen was in the kitchen.

She had changed into one of my cardigans and was loading my dishwasher.

"Hattie Quincy's lasagna," she said warmly. "Keegan, put it in the fridge. Mr. Quincy, you must be exhausted."

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