Next steps sounded like something from a staff meeting.
It did not sound like a son sitting in his mother’s kitchen the night after his father went into the ground.
Ashley stood near the sink, scrolling on her phone.
She looked up only after Margaret had stayed silent too long.
“Mom, Daniel’s just trying to make things easier,” she said.
“Easier for who?” Margaret asked.
Daniel sighed, and the sigh was familiar.
He had used that same sound as a teenager when Margaret reminded him to take out the trash, and again as a young man when Robert corrected him in front of the warehouse crew.
“We need to be practical,” he said.
Practical became the word of the night.
Practical about the house.
Practical about the business.
Practical about accounts, cars, signatures, bills, and decisions that had apparently already been discussed without her.
At 9:17 p.m., Daniel slid a printed list across the dining table.
Margaret noticed the time because the microwave clock was directly behind his shoulder.
