It happens on Day Six.
Eleanor has been with us for nearly a week. She has settled into the penthouse like she's always lived here. Reorganized my kitchen three times. Critiqued my interior design on five separate occasions. Called Lucas approximately fifty-three different name variations, according to Kevin's increasingly detailed spreadsheet.
And she has given him a key to her house.
Lucas has carried that key with him everywhere since she gave it to him. I know this because I've seen him touch his pocket occasionally—a brief, unconscious gesture, like he's checking that it's still there. Still real. Still his.
Sophie and Kevin arrive that morning with pastries from Marlene's. The café has survived the storm with minimal damage. Marlene has sent a note: "For Eleanor. She'll appreciate good pastry. Unlike some people." Sophie has interpreted "some people" as herself and has been dramatically offended for approximately four minutes.
