The weather had turned brisk, and it hurried his steps to the porch.

Lena had the front door open before he could get to the brass doorbell.

She had on a clean white sweater, and her hair was pulled back neatly with a black ribbon.

“Come in,” Lena said.

Michael stepped onto the woven rug in the entry.

He set the blue booster seat against the wall.

He fully expected to hear loud, harsh music or the hostile tone Travis usually had ready.

Instead the little house smelled strongly of cinnamon and fresh coffee.