“Change of scene. Gotta write.” Nicky clears her throat. “Also: I know your dad asked me to stick around, but—I think I ought to go. I do. Like I said out there, you’re grieving, and . . .” Her voice cracks in her throat like a pane of ice. Madeleine watches in horror. Her arms rebel, floating up for a hug, before she folds them firmly across her chest.
