Then I became annoyed with myself for remembering his favorite dessert.
At five minutes past six, the doorbell rang.
Tyler stood outside holding a bag of grocery-store cookies.
“Hi, Mrs. Miller.”
“Hello, Tyler. Come in.”
“My mom said I shouldn’t show up empty-handed.”
“That was thoughtful of her. Thank you.”
He stepped inside, wiped his shoes on the mat, and greeted Daniel.
Emma appeared at the top of the stairs.
She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Her arms were covered, but she wasn’t wearing the oversized sweatshirt she had hidden inside all weekend.
“Hey,” Tyler said.
“Hey.”
For a moment, they simply stared at each other.
Then Daniel clapped Tyler lightly on the shoulder.
“Come on in, son. Let’s get you something to drink.”
The first twenty minutes of dinner were almost painfully ordinary.
Tyler talked about a science project. Daniel asked about the basketball season. I asked about his mother and learned that she had recently started working longer shifts at a local clinic.
