Margaret had chosen the gray-blue paint over the cabinets. She’d refused to replace the old brass drawer handles, even after a designer called them out of style. The small mark next to the pantry door dated from the summer Daniel had slammed a toy truck against the wall, crying more for the broken toy than the damaged wood.
“This house,” I repeated.
Daniele crossed his arms.
“If you can’t live with us respectfully, pack your bags and leave.”
The refrigerator hummed behind him.
The eggs continued to fry until the edges
