It wouldn’t be easy. But it was possible.

“You want to keep it,” Amber said.

“I want to keep it.”

Scott looked slowly around the kitchen — the rooster tiles, then the basement door where a corner of Dad’s workshop showed. “Why?” There was no hostility in it.

He genuinely wanted to know.

I’d already thought about my answer. “Because it holds thirty-two years of who he was. Because his workshop’s in the basement and his tools are on the pegboard and the tiles are the ones his mother picked.