The silence that followed pressed against the windows until Jacob, sensing the weight of adult concerns in the air, leapt to his feet. “Mr. Quacksly, he’s a Titan now!” he announced, the duck swooping through the air in elaborate figure-eights. His face lit up with the kind of pure, unfiltered joy that made everyone else’s worries seem suddenly small and far away. His hands painted invisible worlds in the morning rays, weaving tales of adventure as the duck soared between couch cushions and over chair arms.

“Where’s Dad?” Juniper asked suddenly, the question slipping out between puppet show acts.

Evelyn’s hands stilled on her coffee mug. “Saw him yesterday. Says we’re welcome to move in - plenty of space right up the street.” Her smile was gentle but tired. “He’s got Jacob on a playdate tomorrow.”