They're at the lakehouse, and Susan asks, "How often do you have those?" before opening the door firmly. As usual, she calls out hopefully, in the off-chance Thomas has returned, but the room is just as she left it last time she checked: the tea service is fully-stocked and a bottle of Thomas's favorite whisky sits next to it; the furniture is arranged to his preferences. It's been a week or two since her last visit, and some dust has settled in the intervening time, but the light is bright through the windows, shining on the little shelf with its collection of what she assumes must be magical objects and books.

There is, however, one change: a package on the desk.