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We spent the next ten minutes caught in easy conversation. Kaidence demonstrated an impossible stunt on his video game and Willow launched into a passionate grievance about the hotel charging fifteen dollars for a single bottle of water. For a brief pocket of time, the room felt light.

Then Henrietta glanced over at me, her posture shifting.

“Lakelyn.”

The atmosphere in the room tightened just enough for me to notice.

“Yeah?”

“Step out into the hall with me for a minute, sweetheart.”

Kaidence’s ears instantly perked up. “Can I come?”

“No. Stay here with Granny and Auntie,” I told him, setting my laptop down.

“Why can’t I come?”

“Because grown folks are talking,” Henrietta chimed in. “And you know what I told you about trying to insert yourself into every conversation just because you hear your name.”

Kaidence’s little shoulders dropped. “Yes, ma’am.”

“What else did I tell you?” she pressed.

“That everything ain’t my business.”

“That’s right.”

He lowered his head with a dramatic sigh. “Even when I wanna know?”

Henrietta fought a smile. “Especially then.”

Chuckling, I gave Willow a pointed look. “Watch him.”

“Got it.”

I followed Henrietta out into the carpeted corridor. The heavy suite door clicked shut behind us, cutting off the noise from inside. Henrietta walked a few paces down the hallway toward the tall arched window at the end of the hall, her leather heels making muted taps against the runner.

When she stopped, she turned to face me.

Caspian had inherited his relentless directness straight from his mom. Henrietta was the kind of woman who handled tragedy with an iron spine. She had argued with police detectives, managed real estate holdings, signed court affidavits, and kept Caspian’s estate solvent without ever letting the town see her shed a tear in public.

When Caspian vanished, I had wept until my chest felt bruised and hollow. Henrietta had grieved in silence behind locked doors. I knew she had cried. I knew she had sat in the dark staring at Caspian’s childhood photos, screaming into the silence when nobody was looking. But whenever she stepped out into the daylight, her posture was regal and her voice never shook.

She leaned against the windowsill, looking at me intently. “You already know what I’m going to say. Lakelyn, it’s time. The house—”

“Henrietta, no.”

“Lakelyn, let me finish.”

“I didn’t mean to cut you off, but Henrietta, you’ve asked me every single year, if not every six months,” I said, crossing my arms. “And every year I give you the exact same answer.”

“And every year your circumstances were different,” she countered smoothly. “You were living out of state, raising Kaidence, building your career. I respected that. But you’re back in Hallowridge now, and your family is sleeping on top of each other in a hotel suite. And don’t say you’re fine. Your family is practically living on top of each other in two hotel rooms while a ten-thousand-square-foot house sits empty ten minutes across town. Insurance might be paying for the rooms, but that doesn’t make this comfortable or sustainable.”

I looked away, staring down at the patterned hotel carpet. “You wanna know why I’ve never set foot across that threshold? Because it feels like accepting something that was never finished. Caspian built that house for a life we never got to have. Going in there now would feel like pretending he’s just away on a business trip instead of gone.”

Henrietta reached out, resting a warm, manicured hand over my arm. “I know, sweetie. But Caspian talked about you being in that house long before he disappeared, Lakelyn. He drove me crazy complaining about how you wanted to repaint the formal dining room and replace the leather furniture he spent a fortune on.”

A faint, bittersweet laugh escaped my lips. “Because his taste in couches was atrocious. Everything was black leather and chrome like a villain’s lair.”