Chapter 15
Four days later, the autumn sun broke through the heavy grey clouds, casting a brilliant, warm amber light across the front lawn of the house. The frost on the fallen oak leaves had melted into glittering dew drops that shimmered in the morning breeze.
Inside the kitchen, the air smelled of roasted coffee, cinnamon, and freshly baked apple pie—an imperfectly shaped pastry with a slightly burnt crust sitting proudly on the wooden island. Clara, Elena, Mark, and the boys were gathered around the table, laughing quietly over breakfast, when the crunch of gravel sounded in the driveway.
Everyone went instantly still. Clara’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. David stood up slowly from his chair, walking over to the living room window to look out.
A dark sedan had pulled up beside the front steps, cutting its engine with a quiet click. The driver’s side door swung open, and Margaret stepped out. She wore her dark trousers, her white button-up shirt, and her dark grey cardigan, with her wool coat draped over her arm and her brown leather handbag slung over her shoulder. She looked rested, her posture upright and steady, her eyes clear and untroubled.
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David walked quickly to the front door, turning the deadbolt and pulling it open
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