Two pairs of eyes went perfectly round. Adriana actually rocked back on her heels as though the floor had tilted beneath her while Roxanne's grip on Melissa's hand spasmed tight enough to bruise.
"A month—" Adriana's voice climbed an octave and abandoned the sentence halfway up the ladder. "You mean you're—?"
Melissa nodded.
And all three of them — slowly, helplessly, as one — turned to look at the coffee table Adriana had shoved aside.
The sun looked with them; it had angled itself through the window like a fourth uninvited witness, one golden pillar falling deliberately across the table's surface, and all four of them — three women and a star — stared down together at the little device sitting there.
A small thing, cheap thing and plastic, mass-produced, utterly insignificant — a thing that had no earthly right to be the herald of a miracle, no standing whatsoever to announce what it was announcing.
