“We’re a family,” Thomas said.

“We fix our own problems.

I’ll drive over tomorrow and we’ll settle this.”

He hung up before I could answer.

The screen on the center console went black.

Mark gave me a nod.

In the front seat of my CR-V, I started writing down my father’s exact words on the yellow legal pad.

Three mornings later, at ten o’clock sharp, a deliveryman in a brown uniform knocked on my apartment door.