The door to the rented office opened, letting in the light. Brant stepped in quickly, and it slid closed. The room went dark again.
“Sean’s asleep,” he said.
A knock came at the door.
“Elisia’s not.”
The pounding got more insistent. Brant winced. Then the wail started.
“How does Sean sleep through that?” Amalie said, sitting cross-legged on the floor, her face in her hands.
“I don’t ask why,” Brant said, stepping away from the door and leaning against the wall. “I just thank the Lord he does.”
Amalie lifted her face to her husband. He couldn’t have sat down if he wanted to; the room was that small. She called it an office, but it was just an empty room that she’d rented for a few hours. They paid for an apartment with three changeable walls. Not cheap, but there were advantages to a
