FRIDAY was unremarkable. That was the thing Amelia would think about afterward. Of how completely ordinary it had been.
She had woken at six-fifteen, made breakfast for the boys, sent Hazel off with her project materials, sat through a morning of back-to-back calls about the resort expansion, eaten lunch at her desk, and left the office at four-thirty because Ryan had told her she was starting to look like someone who lived there, and that was not a compliment.
Ifeanyi had texted her at noon: *Free tonight? There is an architecture exhibit at the gallery on Chambers Street. Opens at six. Come with me, it will be good.*
She had replied: *I have to sort the boys first. Seven-thirty?*
*Seven-thirty works.*
She went home, fed the boys, helped Gabriel with a particularly contentious maths
