“No,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

“I’ll go up in a bit.”

My father laid his pipe on the edge of the dessert tray.

“He was pointing at Zane’s wrist, Sarah.

Did you notice where he was looking?”

“I noticed,” I said.

I picked up the blue ceramic bowl, took it into the kitchen and put it on the counter beside the sink.

The kitchen clock said five past nine by the time I finally climbed the stairs to our bedroom.