At Eleven, She Moved In. At Six, I Changed The Locks.

every cent.

Neil handed me the spare keys in a small plastic sleeve. “You need anything else, call the shop.”

“Thank you.”

He gave me a look that said he’d raised daughters and buried worse mornings than this. Then he left.

The house was a wreck.

Coffee rings on the counter. Eggshells on a paper plate. One of Madison’s earrings under the kitchen chair, continue reading …