Lynn POV

The mind-link came through at five-thirty. My mother's voice — careful, tentative, the voice of someone who knew she was stepping onto thin ice and was doing it anyway.

We're having dinner at six. Your father and I would love it if you and the children—

"I'm still angry," I said. "When we've actually talked — really talked — I'll think about family dinners. Not before."

The silence that followed had weight to it. Hurt, and underneath the hurt, the ...