I watched them walk toward the wooden play structure together, Grant shortening his long strides to match her small ones along the edge.

At exactly six o’clock, Grant brought Sophie back to the front porch of the Maple Street townhouse.

He put her bag down on the welcome mat, nodded through the glass panel, and walked back to his car without waiting.

Inside, the living room smelled of fresh white paint and warm pine floors.

Sophie carried her gray stuffed rabbit by its long plush ears up the carpeted stairs to her bedroom on the second floor.

I followed her up and set a pile of her favorite storybooks on the low white bookshelf by the window.