“Are the buckets dirty, too?” Lily asked.

“No,” I said.

“He washed every single one of them at the garage.”

Noah put his blue backpack on the empty chair next to him and ran his finger along the silver zipper.

“Mom,” Noah said, looking out the window at the dark driveway.

“What if somebody brings dirty coins on Saturday?”

I looked at the clean concrete outside the kitchen window where the garage truck had parked three weeks before.

“We’ve got four gallons of degreaser left in the porch closet,” I said.