After lunch, Anne took Caro on a tour of the building, which concluded in her office, where a pot of tea was waiting. “So,” Anne said as they settled in, “what do you think?”
“Your lodging house is wonderful, Anne. It is—” Caro raised a hand to her mouth, startled to hear her voice break, as the shock and sorrow she had been holding in for the past hour came bursting out.
Her sister set aside the tea service and reached forward to take her hands. “You are not used to it.”
“I knew the children would not be here unless something dreadful had happened to them. But I was unprepared for it. I think it was the matter-of-fact way they told their stories. As if those horrible things were the way of the world, rather than a tragedy.”
“You have hit upon it precisely,” Anne said. “One man’s trage
