VIVIENNE
“She incorporated it twenty-two years ago.”
James said it from across Vivienne’s kitchen table where he had been reading the founding documents for forty minutes without speaking. When he finally put the papers down his expression had the quality she had come to recognize as his deepest form of processing. Not quiet. Inhabited. The way he looked when something was too large to respond to immediately and he was choosing to sit inside it rather than reach for the first available reaction.
Vivienne had read the documents twice before he arrived. She had needed both readings. The first to understand what she was looking at. The second to understand what it meant.
“She named it after him,” James said. “After our father. Before she knew either of us existed. Before Sera existed in a
