The rhythm of their new life was a complex, three-part harmony. The deep bass of the cliff house construction, overseen by Gail’s iron will. The steady mid-tempo of the community center, measured in volunteer hours and teen laughter. The bright, staccato melody of the ADU designs—clean, smart, marketable little homes. And underneath it all, the quiet, biological metronome of Evelyn’s pregnancy.
She was five months along now, her bump a firm, undeniable curve. The Berkeley house renovation was a race against this internal clock. The nursery walls were painted—the oceanic blue fading to peach around Liam’s charcoal tree. The crib was assembled, a sleek, modern design that Liam had modified himself to be “more rockable.” The blue rocking horse, a gift from the Harringtons that had arrived wi
