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PART 1 The first thing Nora Callahan ever told her granddaughter about grief was this: some things must be carried in hands, not written on paper. Claire didn’t understand it then. She was seven, sitting on a cracked vinyl stool in the narrow kitchen of their fourth-floor apartment while her grandmother stirred something pale gold…

PART 1 She had been awake for nineteen hours when the man in the booth by the window told her she looked like someone who could be made to disappear. He did not say it like a threat. That was the part that made her hands go still around the coffee pot. He said it…