“She’s not on the deed, Dave.

It’s a family conversation.” David’s jaw moved.

“She’s my wife.” Martha looked up. “Brandon, not today.” Brandon kept his eyes on the grill.

“It’s maintenance, Mother. Nothing to get upset about.” I walked to the garden path with my tea still full.

The path was shaded by the oaks. Cicadas sawed in the branches.

From there I could see the patio table, and the table could see me.

Brandon leaned toward Martha.