The key broke in Clara Bennett’s hand before the door opened.
For one breath she stood on the front step with half the iron key clenched between her fingers and the other half still lodged in the lock. Wind came off the sea in sharp, wet gusts, lifting strands of her hair and pressing the collar of her coat against her throat. Below the cliff, waves struck the rocks with the dull, repeating force of a fist against a locked door.
“Of course,” she muttered.

