He looked at Fiona, who was hugging Mr. Buttons.
“I also know that children remember how adults behave when things fall apart.”
That answer I believed.
We went to the guesthouse.
It was not a cottage.
People like Luca apparently used the word guesthouse differently from the rest of us.
It had three bedrooms, a kitchen larger than the one in my townhouse, and windows overlooking the Hudson River through rows of late-summer trees.
Fiona ran directly to the window.
“Mommy, there’s a boat.”
“I see it.”
“Can we live here?”
I almost laughed.
“Let’s make it through tonight.”
Luca stayed ten minutes.
Before leaving, he placed a card on the kitchen counter.
“Marcus’s number. Mine is already in your phone. Rachel will call when she has Illinois counsel.”
“You really don’t have to keep doing this.”
“I know.”
“That somehow makes it stranger.”
He smiled.
