Ethan removed his coat and gently draped it over the side of the bassinet to keep out the draft.
“Where’s my mother?” he asked.
Claire wiped away her tears.
“They went out.”
“All of them?”
She nodded.
“When are they coming back?”
Claire avoided his eyes.
“January fourth.”
Ethan stared at her.
“January fourth?”
“They left for Cancún this morning.”
For several long moments, he convinced himself he had heard wrong.
Then he opened the refrigerator.
It was nearly empty.
Inside sat half a bottle of water, a jar of mustard, two ketchup packets, and one bruised apple.
The freezer had been completely emptied.
Every container of soup, chicken, pasta, and stew had disappeared.
The formula, yogurt, vegetables, juice, and meal-replacement drinks Claire’s doctor had recommended were gone as well.
A note written in thick black marker was taped to the refrigerator door.
Don’t call Ethan. He is working. Don’t create unnecessary drama.
Ethan slowly peeled the paper away.
“Did my mother write this?”
Claire answered with silence.
PART 2 — THE VACATION PHOTOGRAPHS
