Ava walked away from the kitchen island toward the hallway doorway, her shoulders hunched forward.

She stopped at the threshold, leaning her hand against the doorframe without looking back at her father.

“I didn’t trip over the flowerpot on the deck Saturday,” Ava said into the quiet room.

I stayed seated at the table, keeping my hands flat beside the white envelope.

“I know you didn’t.”

“Mom called me on my phone while you were inside setting out the salad bowls,” Ava said.

“She told me to cause a scene while the neighbors were standing in the yard.