“Your uncle gave us a pair of pewter candlesticks,” I said, checking off line fourteen on my sheet.

“I bought the oak desk with my signing bonus from the logistics firm four years ago.”

Daniel fell silent, rubbing his palm against the rough denim of his jeans.

The head mover pushed past us with three stacked cardboard boxes labeled in my own black block printing.

“Is the dining room table staying?” the mover asked, setting the boxes down by the hydraulic lift.

“The table stays with the house,” I said.