She hated that more than the questions.

One evening, after Vincent had brought over a children’s astronomy book, she led him to the backyard.

The little blue house had a narrow patch of grass, two tomato plants, and a weathered wooden bench that Thomas had built years earlier.

“Can I ask you something you might not like?” she said.

“Of course.”

“Did my daddy die because your company wanted money?”

Vincent took a breath.