“That’s his business.”

He reached into the pickup and swung a wooden crate onto his knee.

“Grab the other end of this one, Nora,” Carl said.

I stepped up to the tailgate, took hold of the rough wooden handles, and lifted the crate into place against the cab.

Inside the farmhouse kitchen, the fluorescent tube overhead flickered once before settling into a steady hum above the Formica table.

Daisy set four heavy glass plates on the woven placemats while Ben laid out the forks from the drawer by the sink.