“It wasn’t an accident,” I said.

“It wasn’t an accident.

Emma was sitting on the floor and the pan came down right beside her.

You saw her crying.”

Thomas took his silver car keys out of his jacket pocket.

“Vanessa has Lily to think about, Rachel,” he said.

The words dropped between us and ended the conversation.

I looked past him through the second-floor window at the brown grocery bags still sitting on my kitchen counter.