“What property?” Marta asked. She had moved close to read over his arm, close enough that he could feel the warmth from the sleeping bag she was still wearing around herself like a cloak.
Alex looked up from the letter.
“Her house,” he said. “Grandma’s house in the mountains.”
Marta looked at him for a long moment without speaking.
“That can’t be right,” she said finally. Not because she doubted the letter but because her mind, like his, had no practiced path for receiving good news and was arriving at it awkwardly, without the right equipment.
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