They’d been back in Montclair for four days when the first article appeared.
It ran on a fan community thread—Noah Hart and Arianne Summers spotted at a waterfront restaurant in Rohan. The photographs were long-lens, taken from across the street, the kind that caught motion without clarity. In most of them Franz was recognizable. In all of them, Arianne was not looking at the camera. The speculation wasn’t about who she was—the thread already knew that. The speculation was about why they were in Rohan, whether the trip was personal or professional, and whether that was a baby carrier visible in the third photograph or just a very expensive bag. By morning the thread had sixty thousand replies.
The financial press picked it up by afternoon. Not the photographs, which stayed in the entertainment feeds, but the name. Arianne Summers, interim CEO of Rochefort Group, spotted in Rohan. The photographs had placed her near the Mythos Group tower. Speculation followed: was Rochefort Group pursuing international expansion? Was there a deal in progress? Neither Rochefort Group nor Mythos Group issued a comment. The silence was, of course, its own kind of answer as far as the financial press was concerned.
Arianne read both articles at the kitchen counter. Franz watched her scroll through them with the particular attention she gave things she was deciding how to manage. Then she set the phone face-down and poured herself a second cup of coffee.
"Two weeks," she said, which meant: two weeks until she returned to work, two weeks until Lexx turned three months old, two weeks until the company she’d left running without her would be fully back under her hand.
Franz said nothing. He’d learned to read the difference between the things she said aloud and the things she was actually thinking, and this one meant both.
The dinner had been Gilbert’s idea, or Nate’s—Franz wasn’t sure which. The kind of idea that arrived fully formed and attributed to no one in particular, which usually meant it had been discussed before he was in the room. Gilbert and Audrey. Julian. Nate. Sam, who arrived twenty minutes late with a bottle of wine and an expression that suggested the traffic had been personal.
The twins descended on the group before anyone had settled.
Lily had been waiting to talk about Rohan since they landed. She’d been compiling her observations in her head for four days. Franz had watched her doing it, that particular look she got when she was organizing information she intended to deploy. Now she had an audience large enough to justify the full report.
"The aquarium had a manta ray," she told Gilbert, who was sitting on the floor because Lily had immediately positioned herself at floor level and Gilbert had followed without being asked. "It was bigger than Uncle Franz. I measured with my arms."
"How accurate is that measurement?" Gilbert asked.
"Very. My arms are exactly this wide." She demonstrated. "And I had to do it twice because the first time Leo thought I was waving."
Leo, who was beside her with his tablet, typed without looking up: SHE WAS ALSO WAVING.
"I was measuring and waving," Lily said. "They can happen at the same time."
Julian laughed. Sam looked at Leo’s screen and raised her glass in a small salute.
Leo showed Gilbert the photographs: the manta ray tank, the octopus in its corner of the exhibit, the jellyfish with their pulsing colors, Lily standing in front of the shark enclosure with her arms spread wide. Lily did not comment on that last one. She’d been selective about who saw it.
"Tell them about the office," Arianne said from the doorway, where she’d appeared with Lexx in the crook of her arm.
Lily turned. "Mommy Aria’s office is very tall. We went in a glass elevator. The whole wall is a window."
"Whose office?" Nate asked.
"Mommy Aria’s. At the building." Lily said this as if it were self-evident. "Uncle Harvey gave us a tour. He showed us where they decide about money, and the room with all the boring books, and the three cafeterias, and the conference rooms, which are named after cities. There’s a Montclair one. It has video calls."
Julian glanced at Arianne. Arianne looked at Lexx.
"Uncle Harvey," Gilbert said. Not a question exactly. The kind of statement that meant he was placing the name.
"Harvey Chen," Arianne said. "CEO of Mythos Group. An old friend."
"The one who sent the gift for Lexx," Franz added.
Gilbert nodded slowly, absorbing this with the expression he used when he was revising his understanding of a situation.
"Uncle Franz signed autographs," Leo typed. He turned the screen toward the room. FORTY EMPLOYEES. IN A CAFETERIA.
"Forty-three," Lily said. "I counted after. There were forty-three."
"I lost count at thirty," Franz said.
"That’s because you were talking too much," Lily said. "You can’t count and talk at the same time."
"Is that true?" Sam asked.
"For most people," Lily said. "I can do both."
Audrey adjusted Lexx in Arianne’s arms and smiled. The baby had been passed around the room twice already. Julian had held him first, with the overcautious grip of someone who’d forgotten how small newborns were. Sam had held him next, with the ease of someone who’d held enough of them to stop being afraid. He was asleep now, the way he was always asleep when there were people around, as if the noise was what settled him.
Aunt Estella called everyone to the table. The meal had been sent over by Amanda: rosemary chicken, roasted vegetables, bread, and a note that read "Eat" in her precise handwriting. Franz had read it, folded it, and tucked it into his pocket. Arianne had read it over his shoulder and said nothing. That was her version of acknowledgment.
The twins finished their plates in twelve minutes. Lily timed it.
"Third fastest," she announced. "The aquarium café was faster. And the Mythos canteen, because of the dessert bar."
"Seven options," Leo typed.
"Seven dessert options," Lily confirmed. "We had three each. Mommy Aria said we could because we’d walked a lot."
"How much is a lot?" Gilbert asked.
Leo held up four fingers, then added a fifth after a moment’s consideration.
"Five floors," Lily translated. "Plus the elevator twice. That counts."
After the plates were cleared, Nate looked at Arianne across the table. He hadn’t said much during dinner—he’d eaten, answered Lily’s questions when they came his way, refilled his glass. But he’d had a folder with him when he arrived, flat and unlabeled, and he’d set it on the side table by the door without explanation. Franz had noticed it early in the evening and left it alone. Now Nate’s look said it was time.