Nora brought it up herself.
Not in response to anything, Julia had said she hadn't mentioned Edinburgh again since Friday morning, hadn't left the letter anywhere visible, hadn't had any conversation within Nora's hearing that touched on it.
But Nora had been thinking.
Julia could always tell when Nora had been thinking. There was a particular quality to her silence on those days, not the silence of a child who had nothing to say, but the silence of someone who was organizing what she had to say before she said it. Like she was waiting for the right moment.
The right moment, apparently, was Sunday breakfast.
Pancakes Daniel had made them, which had become a Sunday thing without anyone formally deciding it was a Sunday thing. He was getting better at it. The first attempt had been s
