The brass medal was in the back of the same drawer in its velvet box, and I left it closed.

David came in from the yard with his shoes in his hand and set them by the door.

“You’re smiling at a drawer,” he said.

“I’m smiling at what’s in it.”

He washed his hands, dried them, and stood at the counter.

“Rachel called.

She wants to know if Sunday is here or at your mother’s.”

“Your mother’s.