"Look," Lea says, setting the last dish down—"are you serious?" "Mom," Johanna purrs, reaching for the red bag like it is a prize. "Open it." "Open it now," Kiko snaps, elbowing past Otto. Their mother, Miriam, sits at the head of the table like a queen who still expects applause. She smiles, slow and practiced. "This is for special people," Miriam says, pulling gold boxes from the red bag. She holds one up. "For those who've stood by me." "Stand by you?" Otto laughs. "You mean like standing by the corner selling pies?" Johanna's eyes glitter. "Oh, a bracelet. For me?" "Wait—houses?" Galen leans forward, fingers twitching. "Houses, Mom?" Miriam nods. "Yes. I talked to the lawyer this morning." "Who gets the house at Carter Lane?" Johanna whispers. "You do," Miriam says, passing a box across the table. "And you will get the bracelet. And Kiko, this is for you." She slides another, careful. Lea's hands stop on the dish towel. Her pulse is a single hard thing in her throat. "Lea?" Miriam says, almost soft. "Child, there are good gifts left." Lea moves the serving spoon with slow, automatic motions. She has moved dinners, washed dishes, changed sheets, paid small bills for twenty years. She has taken her father's cough to the chemist at dawn. She has smiled through gossip. Her name hangs in the room the way dust hangs in sunlight—there but ignored. "Are you going to say anything, Lea?" Galen