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Grace’s shoulders quake.

Jo doesn’t know how much time has passed, but when Grace gets to her feet, the day is dimmer, and the shadows on the walls are longer. The light has gone from Grace’s face, but the tears have dried up. She’s as pale as snow, but somehow she doesn’t look broken. Instead, there’s steel in her. Her eyes are full of anger. Jo pushes herself off the floor as well. “I’ll go to Ada’s,” she says to Finn. “I think you should take Grace home.”

Grace clenches her hands together and breathes out one long, shaky exhale.

Finn stands up.

No one says anything, and so Jo goes into the darkroom to locate her Kodak.

“I’ll go with you,” Grace says from the door a minute later. “I want to see Sally.” Grace’s lips tremble, and she bites down on her lower lip as if she’s trying not to break down in tears. “I need to see her.”

“Are you certain? It might be better not to.”

Grace shakes her head. “You don’t understand. I must see her.” In a span of an hour, Grace’s beautiful face has hollowed out. Dark rings beneath her eyes make her look like an apparition. “If I don’t go now, they won’t let me see her.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t know my family, Jo. You’re very lucky not to know them.” The undertone that vibrates beneath Grace’s words is clear—don’t ask about my family. Jo understands what it feels like to be asked questions that make you feel afraid. Make you feel vulnerable.

“I see.” Jo pushes the Kodak camera into Grace’s hands. “You can assist me with this photo shoot.”

Hands shaking, Grace takes the Kodak and looks at Finn, who stands behind her. “I’m going to Ada’s.” She lowers the camera. “You can’t say no to me. Not now.”

Finn shoots Jo a glance—as if confirming with her his next words—and when Jo nods, he says, “This is a bad idea, but so be it.” He obviously knows the situation is slipping out of his grasp, and he also knows there’s nothing he can do about it. “Are you sure you’re ready to see her?”

Grace looks at Jo. “I can handle anything.”

“She’ll be all right, Finn,” Jo says softly.

“I’m going to get my coat,” Grace says and pushes past them out of the darkroom and into the hallway.

“This girl, Sally, why was she working in a brothel?” Jo asks. “How does Grace know her?”

“It’s a long story and not a good one, Jo. And I don’t feel like telling it right now.”

“At least tell me what we should be prepared for? How bad is it?”

“Sally’s dead, but the girls made sure she looks all right.” Finn runs his hand through his hair. “I didn’t expect to see Grace here. If I knew, I would’ve gone somewhere else. She was not supposed to know.”

“Ira and you cannot control everyone.”

“Jo.” Finn’s voice carries a note of something Jo cannot decipher. He steps inside the room. “Sometimes I think you’ll be the death of me.” Their eyes lock. His are blue like the sky on a clear day. Hers are dark, like a churning river. Jo’s heart beats unevenly at his proximity, at the heat of him. She doesn’t say anything. Her mind is a blank page.

“Why are you doing this, Jo?”

“What do you mean?”

“Teaching Grace photography. Taking her to see Sally. Inserting yourself into my family.”

Jo turns away from him, walks over to the sink, and grips the edges of it. A fluid movement, and Finn is behind her. Deliberately close. His warm breath tickles the skin on her neck. He leans forward and whispers into her ear, “You’re putting yourself in a difficult position. I don’t know what to do with you.”

Heat stirs in her blood. It’s been so long since she felt anything like this. Her loss hardened her feelings, erased her desires. But Finn—and she cannot explain how he does it—softens her soul, fires up her body, bringing back the girl from a long time ago, a softer, gentler version of her. She leans into him. His hands tentatively touch her shoulders, and when she doesn’t say anything, they move up to her neck. Her stomach clenches as she remembers different hands on her neck. She goes rigid, her body preparing for a blow.

“I’m sorry.” Finn drops his hands. Takes a step back. “I thought . . . I misunderstood.”

Jo spins around. Her skin is on fire. The way he’s looking at her. His bright, piercing eyes. There is sadness and surprise. A longing and a bit of wonder. She takes a step toward him. “Touch me,” she whispers. She wants to know she can feel something else but fear.

Finn shifts closer. The faint scent of his aftershave envelops her. His hand on her jaw. His thumb brushes gently over her lips as he brings his head down to her neck, and she’s expecting him to kiss her, but he’s just nuzzling down her throat, inhaling her deeply.