Wallace said, pulling his hand out of the briefcase and zipping it shut.

“Make sure his afternoon feeding chart is filled out accurately.”

“I’ll keep the chart up to date,” I said.

He picked up his briefcase and walked out the back door into the gravel courtyard.

By six o’clock that evening, rain was tapping steadily on the master bedroom windows.

I sat in the mahogany armchair holding Theodore on my shoulder, listening to his soft babbling as he clutched the edge of his blue wool blanket.

Raymond sat up in bed, lifting his head three inches off the white pillow without using his arms.