He hadn’t brought flowers into the house since Mother’s Day two years before.

“Mom, just leave those dishes in the sink,” he said, pulling out a chair at the island for me.

“Renee and I were talking in the car, and we want you to relax tonight.”

Renee came in through the garage door holding three polished wine glasses by the stems.

She set them on the granite counter and smiled with her lips closed.

“Daniel found that cabernet you used to like when we drove down to Tucson,” she said.