Kit asked if she could have another sliver, too. It was good cake. Meg was an excellent baker.

After Gabi left, Mom circled her teacup with her hands. “You won’t ever forget your Tommy,” she said quietly. “I know I’ve told you this before, but I’ve never forgotten the babies I lost. There were three between Meg and the twins. I never knew if they were boys or girls. Back then they didn’t tell you those things. I wondered, though.”

“What did Dad do when you lost them?” Cass asked, brow furrowing.

“Told me he was sorry. That he loved me.” Marilyn paused, looking back, remembering the years of being a young wife and mother. “That I would conceive again. And then he’d go to work. Escape to his beloved firehouse. To his boys.” Her voice held the barest hint of bitterness. “He was lucky. He had somewhere else to go. I was here alone with a toddler.”

The clock in the living room suddenly chimed nine. It caught them by surprise. No one knew when it’d gotten so late, and it was Sunday night, a school night. Meg said she’d need to get the kids home soon. They lived in Santa Rosa. And once Meg and Jack left, everyone else would go, too. Tommy and Cass to Walnut Creek. Kit to her small house in Oakland.

“I’d try again,” Cass said in a rush when the clock stopped chiming. “I’ve met with a new specialist, a doctor who thinks he can help me, but Tommy has said no. Says he can’t go through that again.”

Kit opened her mouth to speak but then thought better of it. She wasn’t married. Had never been married. Wasn’t her place.

Instead, Mom said carefully, “Maybe he just needs more time—”

“It’s our eleventh wedding anniversary this year. I want a baby.” Cass’s voice dropped, deepening with emotion.