“And what did Alan say to that?”

“He said he’d see me Monday at nine,” Ethan said.

“He didn’t argue.”

He lifted June off the changing table and held her against his shoulder, patting her back in slow, steady strokes until she let out a small, soft burp.

“I was thinking about next Thursday,” Ethan said, turning to look at me in the rocking chair.

“What about Thursday?”

“Your mother mentioned her back garden bed needs clearing before the ground freezes solid,” Ethan said.