Tom Miller glanced up at the deck.

I picked up a serving spoon and walked over to the bottom of the wooden stairs.

“There are grilled vegetable skewers on the end table,” I said.

“I also set aside a plate of the plain chicken you like, before it went into the barbecue sauce.”

Ava twirled her right sneaker shoelace around her index finger while looking down at me.

“My mom said you would do this,” Ava said.