He came on Wednesday evening.
No call ahead. No message through Margaret. No assistant paving the way with careful logistics.
Just a knock at the door.
Three knocks. The ones she knew.
Julia was in the kitchen when she heard it washing up after dinner, Nora bathed and in pajamas and engaged in the serious business of explaining to Gerald the fox why the butterfly class had better painting supplies than the ladybird class.
Julia dried her hands.
Opened the door.
Daniel stood in the hallway with nothing in his hands.
No paper bag. No pharmacy bag. No carefully chosen object that said the thing he didn't know how to say directly.
Just him.
She stepped aside.
He came in.
Looked toward Nora's room the way he always did checking, present, already knowing the geography of the place
