I sat alone at the island for three minutes, staring at the nine-digit routing number printed along the bottom of the page.

***

The yellow bus let two kids off near the corner, but Sophie stayed buckled into her booster seat in the back of the station wagon.

“We’ve got seven minutes before the first bell, sweet pea,” I said, reaching back over the seat to unfasten her chest harness.

Sophie didn’t move her feet.

She held her gray stuffed rabbit by both ears, twisting the soft fleece around her knuckles until the fabric pulled tight.

“What did poor Mr.

Barnaby do to deserve that?” I asked.

She looked down at her little denim sneakers.

“Is the new apartment a long way away?” she asked.

My hand froze on the red release button of her harness.

“What apartment, honey?”

“Daddy said you might have to move away to a little rental soon,” Sophie whispered.

She kept her eyes on the rabbit’s stretched-out ears.