“Julian had this one,” she said.

“I thought Maya should have it.”

She laid it over the crib rail beside the floral one and kept her hand on it a second longer than she needed to.

“Sit down,” I said.

“The coffee’s still hot.”

We sat, and Evelyn talked about the anniversary dinner coming up, how she had already ordered the roast, and how she would bring her mother’s silver tray for the table.

Then she praised him.