I set the towel down on the pile, my fingers instantly finding my wedding ring.
“Rent? But Mark and I bought this house together.”
“We will discuss the logistics later,” Laura said, shutting her ledger with a dry slap.
At nine, the air turned crisp.
Mark joined me on the back porch to watch the orange light of the sunset sink below the ridge.
He wrapped a green wool blanket over my shoulders, his hand lingering on my arm.
He looked incredibly frail in the dimming light, though I assumed he was just tired from his long hours.
He reached into his heavy canvas jacket and pulled out a small, faded cedar cigar box.
“I want you to take this, Mom.”
The cedar wood smelled of sweet spice and old paper.
I opened the lid and found a single green metal key resting on the velvet lining.
The key was cold when I touched it, heavier than it looked.
“What is this for, Mark?”
He rubbed the back of his neck again, his shoulders dropping.
“Just keep that green key safe in your dresser, Mom, and do not tell anyone.”
“Is something wrong with the business?” I asked.
He kissed the top of my head, his breath warm against my hair.
“Just promise me you will keep it safe.”
A sudden cry from the upstairs bedroom woke me just before midnight.
I found nine-year-old Toby sitting up in his bed, his face pale under the nightlight.
He tugged on his left earlobe, his eyes wide.
“The walls were shaking in my dream, Grandma,” Toby whispered.
“Is Dad going to be okay?”
I sat on the edge of his mattress, pulling him close and smoothing his hair.
“He is just tired from work, sweetheart.”
“Helen, that is enough,” Laura said from the doorway.
Her shadow stretched long across the wooden floor.
