The alarm cut through the night like a small, insistent bell. Elena reached across for the phone, silenced it, and for a moment let the darkness hold her. Then duty pulled her from the bed. She dressed quickly, smoothing her hair into a practical bun, and padded downstairs where the kitchen already smelled faintly of coffee and the faint sweetness of a house that had been tended in the night.
Mrs. Gregory sat at the small wooden table with a mug cupped in both hands. Her shoulders were wrapped in a shawl; the pale circles beneath her eyes softened her face in a way that made Elena’s chest tighten. The woman tried to lift a smile when she saw her daughter; it didn’t reach the worry in her eyes.
“Morning,” Elena said softly, coming to stand by her mother and leaning to press a quick kiss t
