“Normal.”
“She sneezes often.”
“Also normal.”
“Sometimes her hands feel cold.”
“Babies do not regulate temperature as efficiently as adults.”
Henry frowned. “You seem very calm about all of this.”
The doctor smiled. “One of us should be.”
Mason covered a grin with his hand.
When the examination ended, the doctor placed Nora against Henry’s chest.
“Talk to her,” she said.
“What should I say?”
“Anything.”
Henry looked helplessly at Mason.
Mason shrugged. “Tell her about your day.”
Henry looked down at Nora.
“I met your cousin on an airplane,” he began. “He has strong opinions about my parenting.”
Nora blinked.
“He also owes me twelve francs.”
Mason leaned against the wall. “That is not how the story happened.”
Nora made a soft bubbling sound.
The doctor smiled. “She likes hearing you.”
Henry’s expression changed.
For weeks, he had believed Nora calmed for everyone except him. Claire had held her only briefly after the birth, and since then Henry had mistaken his own fear for proof that his daughter could feel his inadequacy.
He continued speaking.
Nora remained peaceful.
Outside the clinic, Mason stopped beside the lake.
“You’re better with her than you think.”
Henry adjusted the baby carrier.
“You’re less difficult than you pretend.”
“That isn’t a compliment.”
“It was intended as one.”
Before Mason could reply, Henry’s phone rang.
Anna’s name appeared on the screen.
“The archive has released Rachel’s envelope,” she said. “There is something you both need to see.”
They returned to her office as evening settled over Zurich.
The wooden box had been moved aside. In its place lay a single cream-colored envelope.
Mason’s name was written on the front.
Not Claire’s handwriting.
Not Anna’s.
“My mother wrote that,” Mason whispered.
Anna nodded.
“The letter inside was addressed to Claire, but the envelope included instructions that it should eventually be given to you.”
