CLAIRE

Nina came over on Saturday afternoon. I'd called her after the insurance company and before the boutique owners, she arrived with Maria, which I hadn't expected but was grateful for.

Julian let them in and quietly disappeared to his study, giving us space. Nina sat across from me at the dining table with her laptop open.

Maria sat beside her, both of them with coffee cups and the particular focus of people who'd decided grief wasn't going to win today. "Insurance first," Nina said. "Walk me through what you told them."

"I filed the initial claim this morning," I replied. "They're sending an assessor to the site Monday. The...