The metal rail on the low planter wall wobbled when Emma put her hand on it, and I told myself I would tighten the bolts after I finished packing the snack bag.

“Look, Mommy.

I’m a mountain climber,” she said.

She was four, and her yellow sneakers were already scuffed at the toes.

“Stay on the deck, sweet pea.” I slid the apple slices into the bag beside the crackers.

“We eat before we climb.”

Marcus crouched by the lawn mower, checking the oil.

“I tightened those bolts in the spring,” he said, without looking up.

“Should be fine.”

“Should be,” I said.

Emma held a cracker up like a crown.

“I am the snack queen.” She laughed at her own joke, and the sound carried across the patio.

An envelope from First Oak Savings slid out from under the snack bag.

I put it back without opening it.

My phone lit up on the patio table.

Charlotte’s name sat at the top of the screen, and the first line of her message had the word party in it.

I turned the phone face down.

“Juice, Mommy.”