floor and opened the heavy stainless…steel fridge。 Inside were piles of fresh produce； containers of
orzo salad； and curried salmon filets garnished with yellow currants。 Where were the cold leftover
chicken nuggets； or at least the PB and J？
Behind her； Edgar and Nils began a wrestling match in the middle of the floor。 Vanessa usually
let them do this； hoping they would tire themselves out like the puppies she？d once filmed at the
Union Square dog run。 She？d been hoping to catch a dogfight or see one of those rat…eating hawks
the city had released swoop down to pick up a Chihuahua； but had been forced to settle for puggle
playtime instead。 She figured that eventually the boys would flop onto their backs like the dogs；
their tongues hanging out to the side； panting。
？Boys！？ Ms。 Morgan barked； and then smoothed her knife…pleated khakis。 Her ivory tank top
was trimmed with a thick brown satin sash。 Looking at her weirdly taut face and defined
cheekbones； it was hard to tell if she was thirty…two or fifty…five。 ？You can head upstairs to get
ready for dinner。？
She turned back to Vanessa； the wooden heels of her huarache sandal wedges clacking on the
floor。 ？Vanessa； we？ll be having the salmon filets； and if you could just throw together a little
fresh salad； maybe a dill…yogurt sauce for the fish？ That would be lovely。？
Wait。 Throw together？ What did Vanessa look li