Neither man seemed to appreciate how thoroughly he had answered my question about what mattered in that house.

I walked downstairs again.

Marian was awake, trying to fold the blanket she had used.

Her hands shook.

The stairs had exhausted her twice already that morning, she admitted, because the basement bathroom was out of order and she needed the one upstairs.

“Mom, why didn’t you call me?”

She stared at the blanket.

“You were working.

I didn’t want you worrying.”

I sat beside her and gently took the blanket away.

“You are never an inconvenience to me.”

Her eyes filled.

“He said you agreed.”

Those four words changed the shape of my anger.