He put his travel mug on the granite counter, slid his wristwatch back and forth, and reached into the pantry for a slice of bread.

“I need the blue envelope out of the house safe today, Daniel,” I said, staying in my seat by the window.

“The Buick title, and my set of spare keys.”

He didn’t turn away from the toaster.

“The car needs a full safety inspection first, Mom,” he said, pressing the metal lever down.

“The front brakes were squeaking when I backed it off the oil spot on Tuesday.”

“The brakes were put in new six months ago in Tucson,” I said.