“Hi, Dad.”
“You’re two hours late, Lisa.”
“Traffic was awful.”
June leaned against the doorway. “For two hours?”
Lisa’s smile tightened. “I didn’t realize I was on trial.”
“You’re two hours late, Lisa.”
“You’re not,” I said. “But dinner got cold waiting for you.”
She stepped inside and glanced around our kitchen.
“It’s sweet that you kept everything so simple.”
Lisa sat down like a guest expecting better service. Rose poured water. May passed the rolls. June didn’t move.
Lisa talked first. “You girls look beautiful. I mean, look at you. My daughters.”
She stepped inside and glanced around.
Rose set the pitcher down. “You can use our names.”
Lisa blinked. “Of course. Rose, May, and June.”
“Why now, Lisa?”
She looked at me. “I told you. I want to reconnect.”
“After 20 years?”
“I was young.”
“You can use our names.”
“You were old enough to leave with your purse and talk about finding a good marriage.”
