Through the narrow opening I could hear Leo playing with his plastic fire truck on the living room rug, making a low engine hum against the wood floor.

“Let me talk to him for two minutes, Clara.”

She tightened her fingers around the edge of the door, her right thumb twisting the green stone of her emerald ring until the setting turned backward against her palm.

“You don’t get to play mother to Leo anymore, Audrey,” she said.

“He knows my voice,” I said, standing my ground on the step.

“Just let me give him his rabbit’s spare cotton blanket.”