My son Ryan had once brought home a contractor who spoke just as confidently.

The man took a deposit and never repaired our gutters.

Confidence had not paid for the damage.

“Show me something besides a photograph,” I said.

“Anyone can carry a photograph.”

Brandon took his wallet out slowly.

He showed me identification, then a family picture taken at what looked like a graduation.

Paige stood near the edge of the group, younger than the woman I had known, holding a rolled diploma and smiling despite the space between her and an older man in a dark suit.