“You’re being totally unreasonable,” Harper said, tugging at the lapels of her robe.

“A five-months-pregnant widow can’t run a four-bedroom suburban house by herself.”

I shut off the tap and dried my hands on a cotton towel.

“This house has four bedrooms, Harper,” I said.

“There’s plenty of space on the guest floor for you and Julian.”

“Julian needs the master suite,” Harper said, leaning across the counter.

“He needs the attached bathroom and the walk-in closet for his suits, and he needs the desk space for his client files.

You don’t need two thousand square feet to sit around grieving.”