After inhaling her ice cream, Pippa scampered outside to play in the dark. Hamish loaded the dishwasher while Felicity cleared the table.
“Erin? I’d love to hear your cello,” Felicity said. “I’ve never heard one in person.”
Hamish laughed. “She’s lying. The very day it arrived, she pulled it out of the case and dragged the stick across it. Pure hell on the ears.”
“You can’t blame me for having a go! I’m sure it sounds much better with you in the musician’s seat, Erin. You can practice out here. In winter, we usually don’t go to the bedrooms until we’re ready to sleep.”
Though the house felt like it was no larger than her smartphone, Erin wanted to find her own corner and have some time to herself. Her journey had broken that 2,243-day streak of cello practice, so what was another day off?
She treaded lightly. “Actually, it probably needs to warm up. Cellos don’t do well in the cold. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Or maybe as a birthday prezzie,” Hamish said. “Felicity’s turning thirty-seven Saturday next.”
“That might work,” Erin excused herself to Pippa’s bedroom, where she crawled under the covers in search of heat. Rubbing her feet together like a mad grasshopper, she tried to create enough friction to spark some semblance of warmth.
NINE
Erin pulled her computer onto her lap. Her mother had sent several frenetic emails: Had Erin finished a new draft of the essay? Had she landed? Was the family okay? How did the presents go over?
Had she landed? If her plane hadn’t landed, the entire world would know. Erin closed her email and snuggled further down in her covers. A moment later, Felicity knocked on her door.
“Your mum’s on the phone, love.”
On instinct, Erin covered her grandmother’s ring with her right hand before accepting the phone from Felicity. “Hi, Mom.”
“You’re alive!” Claire sounded happier than Erin had expected, which meant she hadn’t yet discovered Erin had stolen the ring.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“How is the cello? I hope it’s okay.”
“I’m looking at it.” Erin glanced at the case. “It’s fine.”
“How does it sound? Is it suitable for a player of your caliber?”
“It’s great, Mom,” Erin lied. Anything could be inside that cello case. She wasn’t in the mood to play it.
“I sent several emails. They do have Wi-Fi, right?”
Felicity waved to indicate she was going back to the living room.
Erin gave a wan smile. “Yes, Mom.”
“Good. You know, I’m glad you chose New Zealand. It’s a lot like home, so it’s study abroad without the hard parts— no language barriers, no culture shock, no weird cuisine. This is going to be great for you.”
“Right.”
“I haven’t seen your essay come through. Did you work on it in flight?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“And did you—”
Claire’s voice disappeared and Mitchell boomed. “Hi, darling.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“We’ve been waiting all day to hear from you.”
“I’m jet-lagged, I just woke up.”
“Of course you are. We just wanted to be sure you were settled. Did you forget anything?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“I thought you might want a little care package in a couple of weeks. Some Vosges or those little Mensa Mind Puzzles you take on vacations. Or those pens you couldn’t get enough of last summer. Just let me know what you need—anything at all—and I’ll send it.”
“Okay.”
“So, how is it? Is New Zealand as gorgeous as everyone says? Two of my partners say they’ll pay you to go on the Lord of the Rings tour and take photos. Is the landscape as sublime as the movies?”
No. Just no.
“Dad, I literally came back to their house and crashed and then Mom called five seconds after we ate dinner.”
“How is the family?”
“Fine.”
“How is the house?”
She didn’t want to get into it. “It’s fine, Dad. Everything is fine. I’m just tired. It was a long trip.”
“I’ll bet. Hey, I’ve been tracking the big box, and it should be there right on time. New Zealand Friday, not American Friday.”
Claire commandeered the line. “I’m emailing you a list of ideas for significant winter volunteer opportunities to pad your résumé.”
“Mom, college applications will be over and done with by then.”
“But you need to get a jump on actual college. Volunteering in your senior year can only help your med school application. You’ll be ahead of the game. This is all going to work out. Don’t you think it’s all going to work out? Volunteering this winter plus a BS with honors in biochem will look really good to med schools.”
“Right.” Erin had expected a break between college applications and actual college. “Mom, I’m pretty tired. Can you just email me?”
“We can communicate via email you if you will actually respond.”
“After I sleep.”
Claire sighed. “Okay. Get some sleep, but be sure your phone is on.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Is the phone having trouble with international?”
“No. Just forgot. I’m so tired.”
“Call me tomorrow when you’re over the jet lag.”
“I’ll try, Mom.”
“No, Erin. Do it.”
“Okay.”
“And focus on your unique factor.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Good night.”
“Night.”
Erin peeled back her covers and returned the phone to Felicity in the living room.
“Everything okay, Erin?”
Erin nodded, because speaking might make her cry. Everything was decidedly not okay.
“Did you want to move the cello out? Pippa will head to bed here in a minute.”
“Sure.” Erin hauled the cello case to the living room and propped it in a corner.
Felicity said, “Bring whatever you’d like out here so Pippa’s not disturbed.”
Erin felt disturbed. “I’m pretty exhausted. I think I’ll go to bed, too.”
Without brushing her teeth or unruly hair, Erin climbed into bed and under the covers again. That nap earlier hadn’t put a dent in her jet lag.
In their shared bedroom, Pippa bounced around for several minutes before Felicity calmed her enough to tuck her in. Erin listened while Felicity snuggled close and read a book to her daughter.
Erin faced the wall and rolled her eyes. She’d learned to read at four, so no one had needed to read to her at bedtime—or ever—for well over a decade.
Felicity whispered, “What will you dream about tonight?”
Erin felt like an eavesdropper, though she clearly
