“Good morning,” Solene said, her voice sharp and loud in the quiet house.

Rylan sat up on the couch, his face instantly transforming into a relieved smile.

I looked from her suitcase to the brass key sliding into her coat pocket.

The water from her umbrella dripped onto the red and blue wool fibers of the rug.

I watched a dark circle expand near the border, soaking into the delicate fringe.

“Where did you get that key, Solene?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Solene didn’t look at me; she looked at Rylan.

“He gave it to me, of course,” she said, pulling off her damp leather gloves.

“I couldn’t very well stand in the rain with all my bags.”

Rylan stood up from the sofa and went to take her suitcase.

“You’re just in time, Mom,” he said.

“Let me take that for you.”

I stepped between them and the hallway stairs, my boots squeaking on the damp floorboards.

“Your bags?” I said. “Why do you have suitcases, Solene?”

Solene patted her hair, which was stiff with hairspray and smelled of cheap rosewater.