I stopped tossing the salad greens and looked up at him.

“And?”

“I didn’t answer,” he said simply.

“I was giving June her afternoon bottle.

I called Mom back at five after June was asleep and kept the call under two minutes.”

He picked up the pot holders and set the Dutch oven in the middle of the table.

We sat down together while June cooed softly in her seat, swatting at a plastic yellow ring hanging from her arch.

The quiet in the kitchen felt different now.