Gloria straightened the strap of her bag and patted her chest twice, lightly, as if something had given her a fright.

I remembered her on my porch the summer the air conditioner died, two hours in the shade with a sweating pitcher of iced tea between us while we waited for the repair truck.

I took the ring out of my fist and laid it on the marble.

The fob clicked.

“There,” Gloria said.

“Now we’re all grown-ups.”

Brooke carried the grocery bag toward the kitchen.

“I took those tile samples out of the hall, Mom.