“He’s an old retired soldier who thinks he’s still in command of a regiment.”

“Colleen,” Trevor said quietly, touching his mother’s elbow.

“Let’s deal with this inside.”

“No,” Colleen said, twisting her bracelet around her wrist.

“She goes off for five weeks to earn German corporate money, and the minute a child needs ordinary household discipline, she turns it into an emergency.”

“It was twenty-two degrees,” I said again, my voice sinking into the flat, measured tone I use when I work out structural load limits.

“She was on a covered porch in a winter coat,” Colleen snapped.