Clara adjusted her collar again, her eyes fixed on the soapy water. “That old place has stood for eighty years, Shannon. It can wait until the babies are a little older.”
“I just want to make sure it is secure,” I said.
“It is secure,” Clara said softly.
I reached for the small brass key hook by the back door where we kept the spare ring for the gray sedan. My fingers met empty air.
I looked down at the wall. The hook was bare.
“Did you move the secondary key ring, Mom?” I asked.
Clara turned off the faucet, the water dying with a dull squeak in the pipes.
“I haven’t touched your keys, Shannon,” she said. “They are always on the brass hook.”
“I checked the hook twice, and it was gone,” I said.
I looked under the mail organizer on the counter and inside the ceramic bowl by the microwave, but only my main key ring was there, sitting next to the empty space where the spare should have been.
“Maybe Ryan took them by mistake,” Clara said, wiping her hands on a dry dish towel.
“He has his own set,” I said. “He never uses the spare.”
“Did you check the pockets of your diaper bag?” she asked, walking over to the table. “You had it at the grocery store yesterday.”
“I did,” I said. “It is not in the pink bag.”
The kitchen felt smaller now, the yellow walls crowding in as I stared at the empty brass hook.
The gravel in the driveway crunched as Shaun’s red pickup truck pulled up to the garage. He climbed out, carrying a large cardboard box of diapers under one arm.
“These were on sale at the warehouse club,” Shaun said, setting the box on the hood of my car.
He reached into his pocket and rattled the loose silver coins there, a familiar metallic sound that always meant he was thinking hard.
“Where is Ryan?” Shaun asked.
“Upstairs,” I said. “He is finishing his packing.”
“Have you seen those guys he hangs out with lately?” I asked, looking toward the road. “The ones from his old firm?”
Shaun looked at his boots, then back at me. His face was tight.
