She stretched out in bed, feeling the void of the morning. The absence of her mother felt like a damp, suffocating blanket.

She needed something—anything—to help alleviate the pain.

Party clothes, she mused. Hardly appropriate for a house in mourning.

But that's exactly what she decided to wear.

As she descended the stairs, she felt the morning's crisp air against her bare skin. Samuel was in the kitchen, his back to her, stirring a pot. The aroma of coffee and bacon wafted through the ...