birthday, she poured herself into preparing a feast—lasagna, polished china, linen napkins—each detail a prayer that her children would come.
But as the evening stretched on, hope curdled into heartbreak. Texts went unanswered, calls to Mark, Jason, Caleb, Sarah, and Eliza slid to voicemail. By nine o’clock, the lasagna was cold, candles melted into continue reading …
