Luke's Daughters. Lynnette Kent

THROUGH the gardens, Sarah realized that this was another place that felt like home. The soft breeze stroked her skin, carrying scents of grass and mist, magnolias and roses. A crescent moon climbed above the trees, turning the sidewalk to silver even before the sun had completely set. Crickets hummed on every side, backed up by frogs in the rhythm section.

      At the sight of a familiar sculpture, she thrust her sandwich into Luke’s hand and climbed into the lap of a giant bronze bear. “Goldilocks was always my favorite fairy tale. What about your girls?”

      He thought a moment. “Jen loves to pretend she’s Rapunzel. Erin goes for Hansel and Gretel—she likes the part where the witch gets shoved in the oven.”