Michael could hear a loud TV commercial playing in the background.

It sounded like a sports broadcast.

“Is your mom in the room with you?” Michael asked.

“She’s making baked chicken in the oven,” Noah said.

Michael shifted his grip on the phone.

The picture of a quiet family dinner taking shape in Lena’s house felt odd, but he couldn’t argue with how calm his son sounded.

It seemed impossible that the angry man from the library was now buying ice cream and washing a truck with a four-year-old.

“Mind her tonight,” Michael said.