ELENA
Nicholas left for the office at eight-thirty.
The first delivery truck arrived twenty minutes later. Two housekeepers Rosa had recommended moved through the rooms with focused efficiency and I directed from the kitchen doorway with a tea I kept forgetting to drink.
The nursery went first. The crib. The dresser. The rug the color of warm sand.
I stood in the doorway and watched it take shape and felt something quieter and more durable than happiness.
I was still standing there when I heard the front door.
It wasn't the movers.
Margaret Carter stood in the entrance hall in her good coat with her bag over her arm.
"The door was unlocked," she said.
"Good morning, Margaret."
**
I made a fresh batch of tea.
We sat at the makeshift kitchen table — a folding table, two chairs,
