Eva said, “You do that with such care.” It came out quietly. Isabel held the jug in the dip of her palm. The night had made the space between them odd, hushed. Isabel met Eva’s gaze and said, “A house is a precious thing.” Eva didn’t answer at first. She was looking at how Isabel was holding the little item—in a cloth, in her hand. There was something hazy about her eyes. Her mouth was slightly open, her tongue pushed behind her teeth. Isabel could see it, did not want to see it. “Yes,” Eva said at length, on an intake of air. “Yes.”
