The kitchen light shone on the dirty dishes he’d left in the sink this morning. He’d been in a hurry to leave. To see Emma. And Harley, he realized. He dropped his cane into its usual spot by the door and limped inside. So he’d left dishes in the sink. Wasn’t the first time. Wouldn’t be the last, either. But he rinsed them and shoved them into the dishwasher. When he turned around, Emma smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “We leave dishes in the sink all the time.” She elbowed Harley. “Right?” “Yeah,” the girl said absently. She was busy scoping out his kitchen, studying the small table, the stainless-steel appliances, the cat clock that had hung above the table for as long as Nathan could remember. Harley wandered into the dining area, slid her hand over the old table. That table held a lot of memories for Nathan.
