The Four Boys at the Restaurant Sink
Daniel hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
I stood up and crossed to the bookshelves.
“Everyone in this family has developed a remarkable fondness for the words I don’t know.”
“Lawson,” Kelsey said gently.
I stopped.
She was right.
Daniel was eighty-two and had invited us into his home to hand us things he’d been sitting on for years.