“Two sugars and a splash of heavy cream, the way you like it,” he said, setting the blue flowered saucer on the laminate table.

“You stayed out on that front porch way too late last night, Penelope.”

I drew my heavy wool cardigan tight around my shoulders and wrapped my fingers around the porcelain handle.

“I was up thinking about your uncle,” I said, laying my linen napkin next to the toast rack.

“Give me his home phone number before you leave for the hardware store so I can call him this afternoon and make sure he’s getting hot suppers.”

Bob picked up his metal fork and nudged a silver-gray lump of scrambled eggs around the rim of his plate.