Marcus was in the kitchen pouring water when they came into the living room. He looked up with the ordinary end-of-day expression already in place—and then he saw Victoria’s face, the bag in her hand, and the way Elena was standing three feet behind her mother like someone trying not to take up space. The ordinary expression didn’t crack so much as it simply stopped. Everything behind his eyes went still and focused.

Victoria set the bag on the coffee table. The tissue paper made a soft, expensive sound as it settled.

“I found this in the linen closet,” she said, still in that level voice that somehow made it...