Walt stared straight at the floral wallpaper behind my head and took a slow sip from his red cup.

He turned around and walked off toward the back bedrooms without saying a word.

We carried the heavy dishes past the living room and into the crowded kitchen.

Dana stood at the electric stove stirring a big metal pot of green beans.

Steam rose up and fogged the glass over the oven clock.

She wiped her hands on a striped cotton towel and hugged Luke.

“Put the ham right on the center island,” Dana said.