Twelve Months Later, Ethan Came Back With a Sleeping Newborn and a Broken Suitcase
Where is he supposed to go?”
Richard picked up the week’s mail from the end of the counter, all of it, and slid it into his briefcase.
“I’ll take care of the mail,” he said.
“I always take care of the mail.”
He left for the branch at eight fifteen, and I followed him down the hallway with the dish towel still in my hand.
“You packed his bag before you told me.
Why did you pack it before you told me?”
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