Instead, he made himself breathe, and back away into the alley, and take out his phone, because he understood, even through the rage, that a scene would accomplish nothing, that whatever was being done to his parents was almost certainly bigger than one cruel dinner, and that if he wanted to actually save them, rather than merely satisfy his fury, he needed to understand it completely first.

He dialed Inez, his family’s corporate attorney.

“Inez,” he said, keeping his voice terrifyingly level.

“I need a discreet, comprehensive check.

My parents’ house title, their bank accounts, any power-of-attorney filings, and every legal document signed under their names in the last two years.” “Alvin,” Inez said carefully.

“What’s going on?” Through the trees, Alvin could see his father, in the shed, carefully tearing a sandwich in half and handing the larger piece to his wife.

“I don’t know yet,” Alvin said softly, watching his father, in the shed, divide a sandwich in the dark.