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doorbell! Evie waited for someone to skedaddle through the house on tiptoes not wanting to wake her. Who was she kidding? Beth and Laney had gone home, and the kids didn’t answer the door unless you screamed or they were expecting a pizza. The doorbell rang again, so she mindfully stretched, ran her fingers through her hair, and prepared to play hostess to whoever was bringing a bakery box of whatever deliciousness the person determined would get her on the good list . Evie wiped the midday sleep from her eyes and put on a tired but neighborly smile.
    She peeked out the sidelight, rubbed her temples, counted to three, and opened the door.
    Luca, in his baby bucket, dangled on Nicole’s arm. Next to him was a tapestry suitcase. It stood straight like a proud, saluting soldier at the end of a long trail of squashed snow next to Nicole’s footprints. Evie wanted to turn and shut the door, pretend she hadn’t heard the doorbell.
    “You’re back?” Evie said, looking at the suitcase, at Nicole, at Luca, at the suitcase. The suitcase.
    “I figured you wanted to stay home today,” Nicole said, stepping into the house, baby and luggage in tow. “So I brought Luca here to see the twins.”
    “What’s in the suitcase?” Evie did not have time for mysteries or uninvited guests.
    “Some of Richard’s things. For the kids.”
    “It’s too soon,” Evie whispered, shaking her head and pushing the suitcase to the wall. “Take off your coat.” She motioned to Nicole to hurry and draped it over the suitcase handle.
    Sam and Sophie and their friends stampeded in from opposite sides of the house. The twins each took a side of the baby-seat handle without being told. Or asked. Nicole let go and the twins carried Luca between them, rocking him ever so slightly.
    “Oh, okay,” Evie said. “You guys take him into the living room. For a minute.”
    Evie whispered when the kids rounded the corner, “You can’t keep showing up at my door, Nicole.”
    “You said ‘talk to you soon.’”
    “I meant on the phone.” Actually she hadn’t meant it at all. “I guess you can come in for a few minutes, but next time, call first.”
    “Last night I called first.”
    Nicole untied an itchy-looking scarf from around her neck. Evie half-expected Nicole to push up her sleeves, ready to fight. Instead, Nicole poked up her eyebrows, her eyes ablaze with questions. “You said we’d have playdates.”
    “It’s just not a good time.”
    “If I had called, you’d have told me not to come.”
    “Then why did you?”
    Nicole touched Evie’s forearm, then drew back. “I had to get out of that house. It echoes.”
    “I’m sorry, I truly am, I don’t think I could be any sorrier—but I can’t take care of you and Luca.” I don’t even know how I’m going to take care of us. Evie took Nicole’s coat and scarf and laid them over the arm of the bench in the foyer, the same bench the kids had waited on for Richard to pick them up on Wednesdays, and every other Friday. Anything or anyone on the bench did not stay for long.
    “I don’t want you to take care of us. I want us to take care of each other.” Nicole’s eyes filled with tears. “I just figured—us being family and all—it would make things easier.”
    The tears were not going to work on Evie. She wanted to morph into Laney and say there was no room at the inn, but she channeled Beth and threw out a blanket of kindness instead. A thin blanket. “If you want to stay for an hour to visit, that’s fine.”
    Evie patted Nicole’s upper arm, the one with the tattoo. Nicole wore short sleeves that covered it, even in summer, but one humid day at a soccer match she’d tucked those sleeves above her shoulders for just a moment. “Nice tattoo” had been all Evie could think to say. It had been three and a half years and a lifetime ago, and Evie had been close enough to discern that the tattoo was a rose. She could see a name or a word or letters surrounding the rose,