“We moved your grandfather Arthur’s old folding table down there.

There’s plenty of room for a cot and your duffel.”

“Grandfather Arthur built this house back in 1968,” I said.

“And Arthur would want his family taken care of under one roof,” Richard said, his booming voice shutting down any more discussion.

“Chloe and Vance are getting settled in town.

You’ve got your captain’s pay and a full military housing allowance.”

I stood on the brick pavers, looking from my father to the greasy paper plates scattered over the patio table.