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They shook hands, and Ivan immediately began prattling about schedules, and lanyards, and who to go to for this or that. Talia studied him as he spoke, noting the faint purple circles beneath his eyes. She hoped it wasn’t a sign of things to come.

“Campaign headquarters are that way,” he said, pointing to somewhere behind the house. “The main barn has been converted into offices.”

Talia nodded blindly, too exhausted to register more than an instruction or two. She wasn’t ready to do this. Whateverthiswas. She felt so overwhelmed she almost couldn’t breathe. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said at last. “But it’s been a long trip. Do you mind if I go upstairs and, um, lie down?” It wasn’t like Talia to shirk her duties right from the jump, but she felt like death, and Dad wasn’t there, so actually, fuck him.

“Great idea. Rest up for the work ahead.” Ivan took Talia’sphone. “I’ll type in my number. Text as soon as you’re ready, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know about being a field organizer.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” The possibility of a legitimate title hadn’t occurred to Talia. Mostly she’d envisioned attending fundraising events and editing speeches, occasionally serving as a reliable sounding board. What even was a field organizer? She’d google it later.

“I’m throwing a lot at you,” Ivan said, “but if you’d rather wait until your sister arrives to go over everything, that totally works.”

“My sister?” Talia said, squinting. “Yeah, no. Gabby’s not coming. Neither is my brother. They both opted not to participate.” She shrugged, as in,What are you gonna do?

“Huh.” Ivan checked his phone. “According to the information I was given, her flight gets in tomorrow afternoon. Ustenya’s assistant just forwarded me her itinerary.” He waggled his phone.

“What the fuck!” Talia swiped the phone and scanned the words on the screen. There she was, in all caps: GUNN/GABRIELLA. Talia’s heart sunk. If Gabby couldn’t even bother to tell her she’d changed her mind, “develop closer relationship with sister” was probably one thing to strike from the list of what Talia wanted to accomplish in San Diego.

Smiling sheepishly, Talia returned the phone. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be all grabby. I’m. Um. Extremely surprised?”

Ivan frowned and scratched the back of his lily-white neck. “You and Gabby are supposed to share an office, but if you don’t get along, I can figure out a temporary solution? We’re not fully staffed yet, so there should be plenty of room.”

“No, no,” Talia said, waving a hand. “It’s fine. We get alonggreat. It’s just... the last time we spoke, she wasn’t coming.”

Talia told herself this was good news. It’s why she’d driven all the way out to bumfuck nowhere. The arrival of Gabby would also help with Spencer. Her leaving wouldn’t feel so personal,and he couldn’t be mad. Well, he could be mad, but it’d have to be for a different reason.

“If it’s any consolation,” Ivan said, “she was a last-minute add.”

Talia nodded. It did make her feel better, actually.

“To be perfectly candid...” Ivan looked to the left, and to the right. He leaned forward, and she caught a strong whiff of breath mints. “I got the impression something happened. Like maybe she had to come, because she found herself in a bit of hot water?”

Talia’s gut clenched.

“There were birds involved. And a cargo plane? Honestly, I didn’t really follow.” Ivan pulled back. “But one day it was just you, and the next, her one-way ticket was booked.”

***

Talia woke up early the next morning, before six o’clock, starving, like her stomach was eating itself from the inside out. She didn’t mind the sensation. Sometimes, hunger felt like fuel. She’d never be able to explain it.

She slipped into a pair of shorts, a sports bra, and running shoes, and snuck downstairs and out the doors near the pool. After jogging through a grove of sycamore trees, she crossed a road and cut across a meadow. The morning was quiet save the occasional whoosh from a hot-air balloon overhead.

Despite the lack of sleep and hunger pangs, Talia held a steady pace, until the pickleball pavilion came into sight and her breath knotted up. All this time, she’d assumed the Ranch was, if not sold, at least shuttered. Meanwhile, Dad had visited with enough frequency he’d needed to accommodate a very mild pickleball habit.

Talia kept going. Up ahead stood a pair of two-story townhomes. Both had living quarters upstairs—one bedroom, onebath, a full-sized kitchen, and living room—and a garage on the ground floor. Mom’s apartment was on the right, but somebody else probably lived there now.

Talia scooted between the apartments. With each step she took, Dad’s money problems became increasingly obvious. Carefully tended rosebushes gave way to unpruned trees. Sprinklers were crusty and dry, building facades were faded and chipped. A discarded Doritos bag lay in the middle of her path.

When she reached Mom’s art studio, Talia stopped. Her eyes swept the lake, the boathouse, the acres of dry brush beyond. As a lizard skittered past, Talia heard a tapping sound. She looked up to see a shutter hanging on by a single rusty hinge.

Standing on her toes, Talia peered through the transom window, but the milky glass offered no hint of what might be inside. She landed with a thud back onto the dirt, the memories hitting her all at once. The paint fumes. The opera blaring. Mom in a paint-smeared black apron, crouching and stretching, debating which part of the canvas to attack next.

Daphne worked furiously that last summer, high off the accolades from a show featuring the first half of herMOTHER/NATUREseries. Talia still remembered the headline fromThe Escondido Daily Times-Advocate.She’d framed the review and given it to her mom as a gift.

DAPHNE CARTER RECKONS WITH MOTHERHOOD

Daphne’s goal was to complete the collection before the holidays, and Talia wondered how far she’d gotten, and if any pieces were still in the barn. Uncharacteristically, Mom hadn’t shown her anything along the way. Maybe Talia should’ve read more into this or asked to see a piece or two. Of course, she’d been apprehensive about a whole new group of paintings that “reckoned with motherhood,” considering most people didn’tthink Daphne reckoned with it very well. The shown pieces had nothing to which Talia could take any particular offense, but Daphne promised to go “deeper and darker” in part two.

A hot-air balloon’s burner flared, and Talia startled. Tourists called out, waving from their basket. Talia waved back. After checking her watch, she assessed the barn again. The door was probably unlocked, but now was not the time to dredge up the past. She had work to do.