“Please do not call him an heir,” I protested from the table.

Brandon, carrying a tray of glasses onto the lawn, said, “Arrogance does seem to run in the family.” And Raymond turned and looked at his son, and for a few quiet seconds neither man spoke, and then both of them broke into warm and easy laughter, two men learning, slowly and imperfectly, how to be a father and a son.

After the meal, Theodore fell asleep in Raymond’s arms, his small cheek resting against the very spot on Raymond’s chest where I had laid him that terrifying night when the whole world believed the man was breathing his last.

Raymond went utterly still so as not to wake him.