The sprain throbbed with a slow, dull ache inside the rigid plastic, making it impossible for me to drive my own car, but my father’s trunk stood wide open under the sky.

Richard helped Ethan lift the heavy wooden headboard into the back of the gray sedan.

They slid the side rails along the felt lining until the whole crib frame lay flat beside Noah’s packed clothes and my accounting ledgers.

Richard wiped his hands on his work trousers and looked at Ethan across the open trunk.

“Call me when you get the lease signed for the new place,” Richard said in his quiet voice.

“I will, Dad,” Ethan said.