In the dining room, Charlie arranges dinnerware while listening to his eighties playlist, unaware of Twyla walking past the window. Upstairs in the master bathroom, Skylar studies the purple bruises on her shoulder, thighs, and backside before stepping into a warm mineral bath. Resting her head against the tub, she peers out the window at the snow-covered lawn, blind to Twyla’s frame drifting beyond her view. Above, Jayson sits at the modest desk in his suite, grading student exams on the laptop. If he were to glance up, he’d see Twyla moving through sculpted yew toward pine trees along the garden’s fringe – and Harrison trailing behind her.
A sough of wind and wayward flurries whispers around the Carriage House. Cristal, reclining in the reading nook, takes her gaze from her book, notice
