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“Properly promise.”

“I don’t know what an improper promise is.”

“One you change later.”

Kirill lowers his head.

Probably hiding another smile.

“I promise that Miss Bennett will be looked after until she is well enough to leave.”

That seems to satisfy her.

For the moment.

Anya returns to the sofa and carefully takes Elle’s hand again. “She has funny hands,” Anya says.

I frown.

“What does that mean?”

“There is blue ink here.”

She turns Elle’s fingers slightly.

There is indeed a streak of blue ink across the side of one finger.

Probably from a pen.

A small, meaningless detail.

For some reason, I notice it anyway.

“Papa,” Anya says quietly, without looking away from Elle, “can she come back here after the hospital?”

My daughter has grown up surrounded by people who are paid to care for her, which has unfortunately made her very good at recognizing when affection is an obligation. She rarely attaches herself to anyone outside a small circle. She has known this woman for less than an hour.

“What makes you think she wants to come back here?”

“She came because I asked her.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“She likes me.”

I almost smile. “You sound very certain.”

“She does.”

“You met her today.”

“I can still tell.”

I look at Kirill.

He gives a slight shrug.

Apparently, I’m receiving no assistance.