Dad went out for an early run with Julie Witkin, which he now did three times a week even though he’d never exercised once in my whole life. It was no wonder he didn’t mind spending time with her, the way that woman fussed all over him. He was looking fit and healthy again, but that didn’t make it any easier to see them running off down the street, side by side. After his run, Dad got into his suit and went to work his usual half-day Saturday, showing a bunch of nosy people around houses for sale. I wondered about the family living in our house back home. In my mind I furnished it with our things again – the rug was back in its place, the curtains were hung, all our treasures were on display – and I hated to think of the new people poking around, living our lives. Wren was on Dad’s laptop at the dining room table. ‘Another parcel came for you, by the way,’ she said. There was a small brown pillow-shaped package on the kitchen bench. ‘Uh-huh.’ ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ ‘Later.’ This brought the number up to three.
