By twelve thirty, the blue SUV was idling on the gravel portico in front of the main house.

Richard stood on the top stone step in a heavy charcoal overcoat, holding Henry and Sam by the shoulders while Margaret kissed Lucas on both cheeks.

“We’ll be down in Colorado Springs on the second Saturday of January,” Richard said, his courtroom rhythm softened into something deliberate and warm.

“I’ve already marked the date on my calendar for Lucas’s regional science exhibition.”

“He built a suspension bridge out of balsa wood,” Margaret said, her hand resting on Lucas’s blue wool sleeve.