“They just need a stable place to stay while Sienna gets over what happened on the bus.

Be reasonable.”

And then he told me that he had transferred Leo’s Saturday piano lesson — the lesson my son loved more than almost anything, the one bright hour of his week — to Sienna.

“You can’t exactly sit comfortably at the piano right now anyway, buddy,” he said to Leo, gesturing at the wheelchair, at the leg.

“Try to be generous about it.

Sienna doesn’t have a father around, you know.