The following morning arrived silently, as if the house itself understood that people were inside trying to reorganize their entire lives after a single night. Light streamed through the tall dining room windows in clean strips, touching the long wooden table, the carefully placed silverware, and the soft steam rising from still-warm dishes. The atmosphere had an almost strange serenity in the face of everything that had recently transpired. It wasn't true peace, not yet. It was merely a functional pause between crises.
Liza sat at the table beside Elizabeth.
