She set her own book down on the sofa to chase after Oliver. Few times in his twelve years had she ever felt the urge to comfort him. A lot had changed in her life in just a short time. Glaring at Antonin to show her displeasure, she rushed up the narrow staircase to the attic bedroom. Expecting to find her son laying on his bed in tears, she was surprised to see him standing in the window that overlooked the ocean. Staring at him from behind, she was amazed by how much he looked like his father already. He wouldn't be a child for much longer.