It had opened a door.

We had done the slow work of walking through it.

PART 23

On the third anniversary of Theo’s birth, I found a small brass key in the bottom of Frank’s old tool chest.

I had been helping him organize the garage so he could spend fewer hours standing at the workbench.

He was still stubborn about retirement, but his knees had begun making decisions for him.

The key opened a narrow wooden drawer beneath his desk.