He set his empty green lunchbox next to the sink, took off his work boots, and lined them up by the refrigerator.

“I’m calling him,” I said.

Luke stopped moving.

“Don’t call him.”

“He sold your childhood home to a stranger without even telling us his price,” I said.

“He owes us a conversation.”

“We’re not having a conversation about it.”

I scraped the sliced carrots into a metal pot.