I opened it.

Leo, Toby, and Sam were sitting on the rug.

Sam, the youngest, looked up and grinned.

“Mommy!” he cried, running to wrap his arms around my knees.

I held him tight, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo.

Leo and Toby came over more slowly, sensing the tension.

“Is everything okay?” Leo asked. He was nine, and he noticed too much.

“Everything is fine,” I said, kissing the top of his head. “I have some great news.”

“What?” Toby asked.

“I got a new job,” I said. “A really big one. Right here in Chicago.”

“Does that mean we don’t have to move?” Leo asked.

“We are never moving,” I said.

I spent thirty minutes with them, reading a story until their eyes grew heavy.

When I came back downstairs, Clara was in the kitchen making tea.

Blake was sitting on the wooden bench in the entryway, looking at a framed photograph of the boys on the wall.

“They look like you,” he said as I descended the stairs.

“They have your eyes,” I said.

He looked up.