Chapter 2

I peeled the label from the box. The paper curled between my fingers, but I didn’t throw it away.

Owen stood in the storage-room doorway, wearing the weary impatience of a man who believed he had done his best. “I just needed the movers to know where everything went. Vivienne’s landlord gave her almost no notice. I didn’t have time to ask you first.”

“You had time to pack my clothes.”

He didn’t answer. His eyes moved to the nightstands. “Your father’s things were handled carefully.”

It was meant to comfort me. Instead, it made something inside me go cold.

My father’s belongings had been moved into storage, preserved but removed from life.

Vivienne was sleeping in my bed, wrapped in the scent of my laundry detergent.

When I returned to the bedroom, she was awake, propped against the pillows with a glass of water in her hands. She gave me an apologetic look.

“I told Owen I could manage in the guest room,” she said. “He said I haven’t been sleeping, and the bathroom is closer up here.”

Her voice was gentle, as if every word had been chosen with care for my feelings. Yet she made no move to get out of the bed. She didn’t ask where I would sleep.

“How long are you staying?” I asked.

She looked down at the rim of her glass. “I don’t know yet. Finding a place and figuring out work after a divorce takes time. You know I hate being a burden.”

“Not forever,” Owen said from behind me.

“A few weeks,” Vivienne added, smiling faintly. “At most.”

At dinner, Owen seated me at the end of the table.

It was where my father had always sat, and I had never had the heart to move his chair.

Vivienne unpacked takeout containers and asked Owen if he wanted extra hot sauce.

He didn’t notice that she had taken the little bottle I always kept for him in the refrigerator door.

I barely touched my food before saying I had a headache and went upstairs.

Two more boxes sat outside the guest room. I crouched beside them, looking for pajamas, when I found a dark blue folder beneath a stack of sweaters.

It wasn’t mine.

Inside was a printed inventory in Owen’s handwriting.

Master Bedroom — Vivienne.

Guest Room — Naomi.

Storage Room — Remaining Items.

The date was printed in the upper-right corner.

It was the day before my father’s funeral.