“Is Daddy coming back for breakfast?” Sophie asked, her fingers twisting the hem of her pajama shirt.
“Not this morning,” I said, keeping my voice level. “He has some errands to run.”
She looked at the empty box of cereal on the counter. “He promised we would go to the park.”
“We will go soon,” I said. “Just not today.”
I limped back toward the master bedroom to find dry clothes for Sophie. The hallway was drafty, the scent of damp pine leaves drifting in from the floor vents.
As I passed the walk-in closet, I stopped. The double doors, usually kept shut to hide David’s shoe racks, were swung wide open.
I leaned my cane against the doorframe and took a step inside.
The right side of the closet, where David kept his suits, was mostly bare. The heavy wool overcoats he wore for winter meetings in Chicago were gone.
His leather dress shoes were missing from their cubbies. Only a pair of worn sneakers and two wire hangers remained on his side.
I touched the empty wooden rack where his formal wear usually hung. This was not a quick trip to his mother’s house to clear his head.
“Mommy?” Sophie called from the hallway. “Look what I found.”
She was holding a small silver key that had been left on the hallway table.
“Where did you get that, Sophie?” I asked, taking it from her hand.
“It was on the floor by Daddy’s desk,” she whispered.
I looked down at the key. It belonged to the filing cabinet in our home office, the one where we kept the business tax records.
I put the key in my pocket, my fingers cold against the metal.
The doorbell rang at nine-thirty. I struggled to stand from the sofa, but before I could reach my cane, the front door opened.
Mia walked in, carrying two heavy bags of groceries and a cardboard tray with two cups of coffee. She wore her hair in a loose bun, and her phone timer was already buzzing in her pocket.
