The house held its breath.
Lily had made the compromise standing up. Bedtime. Petal in one hand. Her side of the bed waiting with its careful arrangement—rabbit with the floppy ears, bear in the dress, biggest to smallest, left to right, the system she'd explained to Franz like it was law. Then Leo's side. The whale, soft and blue, already tucked against his chest. And the Lion. Mended. Whole. Its arm reattached, its mane brushed clean, its new button eye catching the lamplight.
She stood there long enough that Franz almost spoke.
Then she picked up the rabbit. Then the bear.
"Petal stays." Matter-of-fact. The voice she used when she'd figured something out and was presenting findings. "Leo needs the Lion. That's two for him. So I'm just having one tonight."
Rabbit on the shelf. Bear beside it. Ears flopped over the edge. Little dress smoothed down. Lily patted the bear's head once.
"That's better. Now there's room."
Franz knelt. "You didn't have to do that."
