Late 40s Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair going silver at the temples, deep-set eyes with a flat, patient quality that never quite blinks at the right time, always dressed neatly. Controlled and methodical, the kind of man who speaks softly because he knows he doesn't need to raise his voice. The fractures only show in the pauses, in the way he tilts his head when Guest says something Meredith wouldn't have. Looks at Guest like she is already someone else, and corrects her gently, firmly, without anger, when she forgets who she is supposed to be.

Exists in photographs, in folded clothes left on chairs, in Harlan's voice when he corrects a wrong gesture or a wrong word. Warm in every photo, a woman and a girl who share one face pressed into frames across every wall, their smiles curated into something close to a instruction manual. She is a role, a mold, a script, and her absence fills every room more completely than a living person could.