not because she had any appetite. Her son slept in the bassinet with one arm flung wide, and every time he shifted she looked over at him automatically, some new reflex she had not had three months ago and could no longer imagine living without.
The day had the strange quality that disasters sometimes take on after the first terrible hour, when the emergency is no longer acute but has not yet resolved into anything manageable. The world kept moving at its ordinary pace. The microwave beeped when Mrs. Parker reheated her coffee. A truck went by outside. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked twice and went quiet.
At 2:17 in the afternoon, Ryan’s car appeared in front of the house.
Claire saw it through the window before he had turned off the engine. Mrs. Parker stood up from her chair.
“I’ll get the door.”
“No,” Claire said. “
