Falling, falling, without even the breath to scream, with the second-story window changing into a cliff, the ground turned into the thrashing sea.

They’d pass, she told herself, standing with the tea, looking out at the sea. They always did.

But at three in the morning, they exhausted.

No pills, she thought, though February often tempted her. But no pills. Her mother had used them, and often as an excuse.

I’m too tired, Caitlyn. I took a pill to help me sleep. Go tell Nina to take you shopping. I need a nap.

Why, she wondered, did a child crave the attention and affection of the very person who routinely withheld both? Like cats who wanted the lap of someone averse to them.

That craving had certainly passed.

But since she needed to sleep, as Lily left the next day for New York—which meant she had to at least look rested for the morning goodbyes—she’d take her tea upstairs. She’d find a movie again, and hope she could drift off.

Since drifting off came in fits and starts, the wonder of makeup and a skilled hand did the trick.

“You two keep an eye on each other. I’ll know if you don’t.” Lily gave Cate and Hugh a wagging finger warning. “I have my spies.”

“I’m taking him to a strip club tonight.”

“See that you have plenty of singles.” Lily checked her purse, again. “Those girls work hard.”

After shutting her enormous travel purse again, Lily put her hands on Cate’s cheeks. “I’ll miss that face.” Then turned to Hugh, did the same. “And this one.”

“I expect a call when you’re settled.”

“You’ll get one. All right, here I go.” She kissed Hugh. Kissed him again before enfolding Cate in a hug and subtle clouds of J’adore.

“Knock ’em dead, Mame,” Cate murmured.

Lily touched a hand to her heart, to her lips, then slid into the limo.

With Hugh, Cate stood watching the car wind down to the gate. “Alone at last,” she said to make him laugh.

“She is a presence, isn’t she? How long is the list she gave you about keeping an eye on me?”

“It’s lengthy. How about yours for me?”

“Same. So I’ll cross an item off, ask you what you’re up to today.”

February had opted for balmy. It wouldn’t last, but for this day, this moment, the air held the teasing promise of spring. Spears of bulbs, nubs of wildflowers poked up to bask in the sun. Out at sea, a ship, white as winter, glided toward the horizon.

There were times you really should seize the day.

“I worked a couple hours, and need a couple more. Audiobook, and it’s going well. Then I think it’ll be a really good afternoon for a walk on the beach. You could help me cross two items off my list. How about sitting in on the recording, then taking some sandwiches or whatever and walking with me.”

“Oddly, that would also cross some off my list.”

He took her hand, the way he had when she’d been a little girl. And she shortened her gait for him—as he’d once done for her.

“Have you heard from your dad?”

“I did, just yesterday. It’s cold and rainy in London.”

“Aren’t we the lucky ones? Are you happy here, Catey?”

“Of course I am. Don’t I look happy?”

“You look content, which isn’t quite there. One of the items on my long list is to convince you to get out, find some people your own age. Lily suggests Dillon for that.”

“Does she?”

“He’s lived here all his life, he has friends. Work, for us, it’s essential, but it can’t be all.”

“Right now, it’s enough for me.” At the cottage, she opened the door. “I’m enjoying the quiet, the same way I enjoyed the fast pace in New York.”

“Has it been quiet?”

“Grandpa, I promised I’d tell you if I get another call, and I will. Nothing since before Christmas. Now, do you want some tea to take in?”

“Is Lily far enough away for you to let me have one of your Cokes?”

“Barely.” But she went to the kitchen, got one for him. “Our secret. I’m using the booth, so you can be comfortable in the main studio, and won’t have to worry about noise. And you can go in and out, no problem.”

“I’ve never heard you work—just enjoyed the results. Expect me to stick.”

“Then get comfortable.” She handed him headphones, plugged them in. “I’m already set up from earlier. I’m going to voice a chapter. If there are any hiccups, I’ll retake. If you need something, just signal.”

He angled the chair toward the booth, sat. “I’m fine. Entertain me.”

She’d do her best.

She closed herself in the booth, adjusted the mic, brought up her computer monitor, and below that the text on her tablet.

Room-temperature water to hydrate the throat, the tongue, the lips. Tongue twisters to loosen up.

“Susie works in a shoeshine shop. Where she shines she sits. Where she sits she shines. Eleven benevolent elephants.”

Over and over, mixed with others until she felt smooth.

She took a moment, two, to put herself back into the characters, the story, the tones, the pace.

Standing close to the mic, she hit record.

Now she played multiple roles. Not just the characters she voiced, each one demanding a distinct vocal style, not just the role of narrator outside the dialogue. But she stood as engineer, as director, keeping herself in the story she read while scanning ahead to prepare for narration, dialogue coming next, while watching the monitor to be sure she didn’t lose pitch or pop or slur.

Dissatisfied, she paused, backtracked, began the paragraph of description again.

Outside the booth, Hugh listened to her voice—voices—in his head. A born performer, he thought. Just look at her facial expressions, her body language as she became each character or shifted back to that smooth, clear narration.

Part of him might hope—an admittedly selfish hope—she’d step in front of the camera again. But his girl had found her place.

Talent would out, he thought, and sipped his Coke, let his girl tell him a story.

He lost track of time, found himself surprised when she shut down. He tipped one earpiece back as she came out of the booth.

“You don’t need to stop for me. I’m enjoying it.”

“For this kind of work, I need to take breaks. I’ll start muffing it otherwise. What did you think?”

“What I heard of it’s a damn good story. I’d say I want to read it, but I think I’d like to listen to the full audio. You’ve got a way, Cate.” He set the headphones aside. “Did you use your cousin Ethan for Chuck, the obnoxious, noisy neighbor?”

“Caught.” She pulled the tie out of her hair. “Ethan’s got that—I think of it as a kind of pinch in his voice.”

“It works.”

“So, how about I make us some sandwiches? Consuela snuck some of her ham from last night’s farewell dinner into my fridge, and I baked some brown bread this morning.”

Since she’d been awake before dawn.

“Sold. I don’t suppose I could get another Coke?”

He knew just how to put that charming innocence on. But Cate was no fool.