“Halmeoni, I’m home,” Hayi called as she and Dara entered the apartment at five o’clock. The late October sun made a crisscross pattern on the living room furniture. Though it accented the worn patches on the sofa and the stains on the rug, the place looked more cheerful than on the gloomy night Dara had last seen, about fifteen days ago.

Dara’s thoughts were interrupted when Mrs. Kwon walked in from the kitchen. “Hello, Hayi. Ms. Park!” The older woman’s shoulders tensed. “Is everything all right?”

Dara smiled reassuringly. “Yes, we’re just fine, Mrs. Kwon. I was hoping to catch your son, so I offered Hayi a ride home.”

“He isn’t here.” Mrs. Kwon glanced at her granddaughter. “Sweetheart, I have to go to the church supper tonight. I’m in charge,” she added proudly. Then her forehead furrowed. “But you’ll have to come with me. Your appa called a few minutes ago to say he’d be late, I don’t like to leave you here alone.” Mrs. Kwon’s frown deepened. “It’s just that my arthritis is acting up today and I’m not sure about Seunghoon’s wheelchair on the church steps.”

“It’s okay, halmeoni. We’ll be fine here.”

“I don’t know. This neighborhood isn’t like it used to be.” The older woman’s eyes darted to the clock on the wall. “Maybe I could go across the hall and see if Mrs. Choi can come over for a while.”

Dara stepped forward. “I’d be glad to stay with them, Mrs. Kwon. As I said, I want to talk to your son, anyway.”

Peering closely at Dara, Mrs. Kwon said, “I guess it would be all right. If it wasn’t my first time in charge… Song Yoojin would just love to see this go bad and then tell everyone I couldn’t do a good job like she did last year.”

Hayi, who had stood by with her hands clenched and her shoulders stiff, obviously waiting for the adults to agree, visibly relaxed and smiled at her grandmother’s comments. “Go ahead, Halmeoni. Appa will be glad we’re not alone.”

After Jiyong’s mother left, Seunghoon, outfitted in denims, a superhero sweatshirt and high tops, whizzed in from the bedroom. “Hi sis,” he said cheerfully. “Hi Ms. Dara” His eyes shone with mischief. “I waited in the other room for you to convince Halmeoni to go.”

When Hayi seemed to comprehend his obtuse comment, Dara asked, “What do you mean?”

The two children exchanged a look of mutual understanding, so deep, so moving, that Dara’s heart sank. How well she remembered having the same connection with her sister.

Seunghoon moved the wheelchair back a few inches then forward a few. He repeated the process as he talked. “Halmeoni worries about me the most,” Seunghoon said matter-of-factly. “If I’d come into the room and reminded her again that I’m in this thing, she would have changed her mind about leaving. Hayi and I, we know how to get around older people.” Again his eyes glittered and his smile was impish.

“I’ll remember that.” Dara drawled.

Hayi’s face suddenly sobered and she headed for the kitchen. “Okay. Now we have to finish our homework, set the table, fold the towels and get the lunches ready for tomorrow.”

Digging her heels into the rug, Dara held back her tongue.

“Aw, sis, can’t we play one game before we do that? We’ve been cooped up in school all day.”

Hayi stopped in her trek to the waiting chores and turned to them, her face a study in conflict. Dara knew she was getting a glimpse at the kind of pressure Hayi felt every day. Torn between her own teenage response to crash for a while and her father’s rules, the girl stood rigidly in the middle of the floor. Well, Dara knew she could help with this.

Taking off her coat, she suggested an alternative. “How about if you set the table, Seunghoon makes the lunches and I fold the towels. Then we’ll all play a game of…”

“Monopoly,” Seunghoon interjected cheerfully.

“Monopoly,” Dara confirmed, “and then start homework.” She looked at Hayi. “Would your dad really mind so much?”

In the end, Hayi succumbed to her instincts and agreed. Soon the three were ready to play. Seunghoon had to be assisted out of the wheelchair, and Hayi showed surprise when Dara secured the break, held on to the sides and allowed Seunghoon to ease onto his knees and then his seat.

As they set up the board, the radio blaring behind them, Seunghoon asked, “Did you hear about the duck who went to the drugstore?”

Taking out the game pieces, Hayi groaned but refrained from supplying the punch line. Dara shook her head as she kicked off her pumps and sank to the floor, placing a bowl of popcorn beside her.

“He bought some lip balm and told the clerk, ‘Put it on my bill.’ “

Chuckling, Dara settled into the rug. “Okay, smarty. Why did the tomatoes cross the garden?” When Seunghoon shook his head, she said, “To get a head of the lettuce.”

The ten-year-old guffawed. Dara quelled the tears that threatened. He was so like Bom.

That was how Kwon Jiyong found them sixty minutes later. Dara had just demanded rent for two hotels on Park Place, when she looked up to find Hayi staring past her in panic. “Hayi,” she teased. “It’s only five thousand won. Listen, I’ll lend you-“

Then she realized more was wrong than an unlucky roll of the dice. She tracked the girls gaze to the door where Jiyong stood like an avenging angel. Or devil. Dara bit her lip as she took in his taut stance and narrowed eyes. She also noticed the way his white T-shirt stretched across his broad chest, outlining every line of his torso. His blue jeans were grubby but didn’t detract from what was inside. His brown hair was in disarray and his features stood out more clearly due to fatigue. He looked tired but so y that Dara once again experienced and unfamiliar, but thoroughly intense, feminine rush of response.

“What’s going on here?” he asked is voice low and somewhat impatient. Dara guessed that Jiyong didn’t like surprises, couldn’t afford to like them.

Hayi sat up straight and pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them with her arms. “I’m sorry, Appa, we lost track of time. We only planned to play-“Her voice broke off and tears welled in her eyes. She lowered her forehead to hide them.

Seunghoon jumped in. “No, Appa, it’s my fault. I begged everyone to play. I-“

“Hey, guys, when did I become such a monster that you have to stick up for each other?”

When neither answered, just stared at him, he glanced around the room as if looking for some way to break the tension. Spying the popcorn, he automatically bent down, picked up the bowl and some of the kernels scattered on the floor. “I’ll be right back,” he said and headed for the kitchen.

In the small room, Jiyong tromped to the sink and ducked his head under the faucet, trying to get rid of the dirt and his irritation. Exhausted from four hours of constructio