The blue blanket was bunched up at the foot of the mattress.

I drew it up over his legs, and he kicked it off twice before I let him keep it that way.

“Your grandpa left us a lake,” I told him.

He had Spencer’s chin, something I’d quit minding a while back.

The bank slip from the coffee shop was still folded up in my purse.

Fifty thousand dollars, neatly typed, with a line at the bottom for my signature.

Fifty thousand set against two hundred fifty, plus a house on the water, plus Spencer standing in a parking lot in shoes with holes worn through the soles.