“I know things got out of hand in the school gym Tuesday night.”

The microwave timer counted down in red numbers on the panel above the stove.

“You told the whole parent committee I was a terrible mother,” I said, resting my hand on the handle.

Rory laid his palms flat on the table as the microwave beeped.

“I was out of line.

The welding shop in Brandon held up payment on three big structural orders back in January, and I had suppliers calling my cell every hour.”

I opened the door and put the steaming mug on the table in front of him.