Julian leaned in, propping both elbows on the tile.

“Nobody said the yard.

We said the garage.”

My father came down the back hallway at a quarter to five.

He had the morning edition under his arm, the broadsheet folded into a tight square.

Arthur sat down at the head of the table and laid the paper flat.

“What’s holding up the coffee?”

Martha came out of the butler’s pantry with a silver pot.