LILY
Margaret’s voice was calm, almost too casual for how quickly my mind latched onto her words.
“Alice usually goes to the park on Thursday noons,” she said as she folded the dishcloth neatly beside the sink. “She likes the swings. And the climbing frame. It’s been part of her routine since she could walk.”
I nodded, filing the information away as if it were precious. Routine mattered to Alice. I’d already learned that she liked things predictable, liked knowing what came next.
Alice, sitting at the breakfast table with her legs swinging, froze mid-bite.
“Park?” she asked, eyes widening.
“Yes,” I said, smiling at her. “The park.”
She grinned, slid off her chair, and ran toward her room. “I need my good shoes!”
I laughed softly, watching her disappear down the hall. For a brief mo
