“Mom,” Sam said without looking up from his grid paper.

“Yes, Sam?” I said.

“If Ethan told his parents eight years ago that we didn’t exist, how is he going to explain four of us?” Sam asked.

“He’ll have to find his own words,” I said, running the iron along the sleeve seam.

“Logic says he’ll try to say you’re mistaken,” Sam said, adjusting his glasses with his middle finger.

“I have the hospital delivery receipts locked in my briefcase,” I said.