“I was afraid if I announced it at dinner, my mother would demand rent before I even saw a paycheck.”

“She knows now,” I said.

“She found out this morning,” Ethan said.

“She looked up your father’s military biography on the living room computer after you left.

She saw the photo with the lapel pin and panicked.”

My father smoothed the back of Noah’s yellow shirt, his expression calm and measured.

“She called my phone six times while I was driving here,” Ethan went on.

“She said there had been a big misunderstanding about the car.