The silence of the evening felt immense. Not the tense, expectant silence of a fortress preparing for battle, but the deep, satisfying quiet of a home with two sleeping babies. The dinner plates had been cleared away hours ago, the financial reports were locked in the secure bunker, and the only sound now was the low, gentle crackle of the fire in our private sitting room.

I was sitting on the floor, leaning against the massive, upholstered sofa, sorting through a pile of tiny knitted booties. ...