“Concentrate on the road,” I said from the back seat, pressing a cool wet washcloth to June’s damp temple.

“I am concentrating,” he said, running one hand through his hair before gripping the leather wheel again.

“I am just saying Alan expects the product deck completely finalized before nine tomorrow morning.”

“Our daughter has a 104 fever, Ethan,” I said, keeping my voice down so June would not start screaming again.

“I know that,” he snapped, his voice tight and thin in the enclosed car.

“I am driving, am I not?”