Page 62

“Sure, sure.” He nods too many times. “Just, you know, everybody’s worried.”

“Is that so? I think it would be more accurate to say that everybody’s curious. There’s a difference.”

His face turns slightly pink as he breaks into nodding again. “Sure, sure.”

More people slow as they pass. Heads turn. Recognition ripples outward. Sterling. Maggie’s sister. Ben’s sister. The one who left.

I can feel the labels sticking to my skin.

I know Lucy can feel it too. She’s trembling, holding tightly to my coat.

I crouch in front of her, blocking the view as much as I can. “Hey.”

She won’t look at me.

“Lucy.”

She peeps up at me, her eyes shiny. “I want to go home.”

“Okay,” I say. “We can…”

A little wail cuts me off.

Not Lucy.

A toddler.

Across the street, near a small market stall set up under a green canopy, a petite young woman with short dark hair is crouched in front of a double stroller. Two little kids, a girl and a boy, sit side by side, bundled in matching striped hats. The girl is howling as if her life depends on hitting maximum decibels. The boy is calmly chewing on the sleeve of his jacket.

The woman says something to the crying girl, then makes a ridiculous face.

The child pauses mid-wail and widens her eyes, puffing her cheeks. Then she laughs.

I see Lucy watching.

The woman catches sight of us.

She doesn’t stare at Lucy with pity. Doesn’t look at me like I’m a returning scandal with good boots. She just smiles, warm and easy, like we’re actually human people and not a developing news item.

Then she reaches into a wooden crate beside the stall and pulls something out.

A wooden toy.

Small. Smooth. Hand carved, from the look of it. A little fox with rounded ears and a tail curved around its feet. Simple enough to sit comfortably in a small child’s hand, beautiful enough that even I can tell someone made it with care as well as expertise.

The woman murmurs to the twins, then stands and crosses toward us.

“Hi, I’m June,” she says, her smile warm and genuine in her pretty, slightly pixyish face. Before I can say anything, Lucy peeks around me. June’s smile gentles. “I think this little fox was hoping to meet someone special today.”

I tense automatically. “Oh, that’s kind, but we can’t just⁠—”

“It’s a gift,” June says, speaking to Lucy instead of me. “Sometimes foxes get tired of sitting all alone, waiting for the right person to come along.”

Lucy’s gaze drops to the toy.

Her fingers loosen around her rabbit.

June crouches, holding the fox out but not pushing it forward. “He’s very brave, but only when no one rushes him. He likes to take his time with things.”