The locksmith arrived at nine twenty with tools and several boxes of hardware.

We checked every exterior entry and agreed that all the locks would be replaced.

He asked whether anyone else needed a key.

“No one gets one automatically,” I said.

He nodded and wrote down the number to be supplied.

It was such a simple answer.

It had taken a great deal of paperwork to reach a place where I could say it without anyone arguing that family meant access.

While he worked, I made coffee from an unopened bag in the cabinet.