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need to do it quickly.” Malgam watched Indigo with a tenderness Rachel hadn’t thought he possessed. He seemed hesitant to change the subject.
    â€œWe’ll need today to prepare and to have a council meeting.” Nandy looked like she was making lists in her head. “I think Rachel should move out of the visitors’ quarters and in with us.”
    â€œThat girl is a visitor? From where?” Rachel had wondered why the girl who shared the room she slept in wasn’t with a family. She and Rachel seemed to be the only people who didn’t live with a family group.
    â€œShe showed up not long after the Roberts man who died. We put her there because we aren’t sure what to make of her.” Nandy saw Rachel’s confusion. “We think she came from the Roberts. There aren’t many lone survivors out there, if any, so she must have. We don’t know if we can trust her.”
    â€œSo the people you don’t trust sleep in that room?” Rachel was half teasing.
    â€œYes.” Nandy wasn’t teasing at all. “But I think we all feel like we can trust you now. You’ve not tried anything strange, and you have helped as much as you can in camp. I heard you gathered fire twigs yesterday. And I’m told you don’t complain, at least not much.” Nandy grinned at Pathik.
    â€œYou rest as much as you can,” Indigo said to Malgam. He pointed at Nandy and Pathik. “You two get Rachel settled. I am going to call a council for tonight. I think we will leave in the morning, and we’ll want to have a plan.”
    They went their separate ways: Nandy to help Rachel fetch her things to their rooms, which were in one of the hand-built huts, and Pathik to gather firewood for the family hearth. Indigo went to call the council together. Malgam stayed where he was, and tried, as much as he could, not to dwell on the sadness he’d seen in his father’s eyes at the mention of his mother. He looked at the envelope in his hands, at his name, written in his mother’s slanted cursive—a script he’d never seen before. It was fashioned from a fine paper, thin as leaves, unlike anything he had seen, save for the pages of the few books they had in camp, or the notebook filled with information the first survivors thought they might need. He fingered the corner of the seal. But then he shook his head and placed the envelope on the table next to his bed. He didn’t want to know what she had to say, at least not now.

CHAPTER 3

    E LIZABETH DABBED AT the corners of her mouth with her napkin—a fine linen napkin from a different era.
    â€œThat was, as usual, delicious, Vivian.”
    Rachel’s mother smiled from across the breakfast table. The two women had taken to eating together for most meals, and had developed, during the last weeks, an almost easy familiarity. It was a drastic change from how things had been for the last twelve years on The Property, when the lines between employee and employer were formally drawn and strictly observed. Rachel’s Crossing had altered all of that.
    â€œI’m glad you liked it. I’m hoping to pick up some more of that honey in town today.” Vivian’s smile didn’t overcome her wan complexion, or the deep lines around her mouth and eyes. She looked ten years older than she had a month before. She rose and began to clear the dishes. Elizabeth stood as well, and reached for a glass.
    â€œYou go start in the greenhouse,” said Vivian. “You’ll only slow me down in here. I’ll be out to help with the trays soon.”
    â€œAll right, come when you can, but no hurry. Jonathan will be out there by now.”
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    JONATHAN, MS. MOORE’S hired hand, was in the greenhouse, moving trays of orchid starts to the bench where Elizabeth and Vivian would pot them. He paused to watch Elizabeth approach. When she got inside the door he spoke.
    â€œIs Ms. Quillen any