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Lucy looks at me. It's the first time all morning she’s looked at me as if I might have an answer she wants to hear.

I nod. “It’s okay.”

She reaches out and takes the fox.

June’s eyes brighten, but she doesn’t make a fuss. Smart woman.

“What do you say?” I ask, then instantly hate myself for sounding like every adult ever.

Lucy whispers, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” June glances at Bun. “I see he has another friend too. That’s good. He won’t ever be lonely now.”

Lucy looks down at her rabbit, then the fox. “Bun doesn’t like loud places.”

June nods solemnly. “That makes sense. Loud places can be a lot.”

“Yes,” Lucy says.

A real word. Voluntary. Directed at another human.

I nearly collapse from relief.

June stands, brushing her hands on her jeans. She’s pretty in a soft, effortless way that makes me immediately suspicious on principle. Honey brown hair tucked beneath a knit hat, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes kind without being intrusive. She wears a thick cardigan under a canvas apron dusted with sawdust, and there’s a calm surrounding her that feels lived in rather than performed.

The twins begin babbling from the stroller.

One holds up a wooden bear triumphantly. The other throws a colored block on the ground then looks offended by gravity.

“Those yours?” I ask.

June’s face lights up. “Yes. Lily and Noah.”

“Twins.”

“Yes.” She laughs under her breath. “They’re quite a handful,” she says indulgently, adding, “We also have Evan, but he’s at school right now.”

Despite myself, I warm to her and smile, possibly the first genuine smile since returning to Redwood Run.

Lucy takes one step out from behind me, hugging Bun and the fox to her little chest as if they’re her babies.

June notices the movement but doesn’t acknowledge it directly. Another point in her favor.

“I have a stall here most Saturdays,” she tells me. “Wooden toys, mostly. A few puzzles. Some things the kids test for structural integrity by throwing them at Wayne.”

“Wayne?”

“My partner. One of them.” She says it easily. Naturally. “He owns Last Mile Garage.”

I blink.

One of them?

Interesting.

Possibly Redwood Run has developed new social policies in my absence.

“Wayne Calder?” I ask.