Rain sheeted against the tall dining-room windows in a constant silver curtain, turning the Seattle night into a blurred, shifting wall of gray. The chandelier above the long table cast warm pools of light across polished wood and good china. Victoria had set everything out without being asked—roast chicken still steaming, roasted root vegetables glazed with honey, a bottle of the red Marcus preferred already breathing. She looked tired in the soft way she always did after a stretch of successful meetings, elegant even in simple black trousers and a silk blouse, her dark hair pulled back loosely.

Elena sat in her usual place, the soft sweater brushing her collarbones,...