Twice, an hour apart.”

I put my hand flat on the counter.

“That isn’t her waking up,” he said.

“That’s her hearing you through a window.

Don’t expect a conversation tonight.”

“She hates sleeping late.”

I went in, sat down, and told her about the dog, who had dug under the fence and finished off the last of the tomatoes, and about the vet bill for his nails.

“Thursday,” I said.