“Cooking.”
“Gardening.”
“Fishing practice.”
“You’re determined about the fishing.”
“I refuse to be defeated by a fish.”
“That’s admirable.”
The breeze moves across the porch again.
Wren watches the sunlight dancing across the water.
Then she says softly—
“I think this is the first time in years I’ve felt… still.”
I nod.
“That’s what this place does.”
She studies me for a moment.
“You brought me here on purpose.”
“Yes.”
“Because you knew I needed it.”
“Yes.”
She shakes her head slightly.
“You’re very good at reading people.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Before she can answer—
A faint sound comes from inside the house.
Wren frowns.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
She sets her coffee down.
“That beep.”
We both listen.
The house is quiet again.
Then—
