photograph above Derek’s workbench.
Dad, maybe thirty years younger, standing beside a walnut dining table.
Next to the photograph was a handwritten note.
BUILD IT SO IT LASTS LONGER THAN YOUR PRIDE.
I recognized Dad’s handwriting.
“You kept that?”
Derek glanced toward it.
“He wrote it after I ruined a cabinet door when I was sixteen.”
Dad’s expression softened.
“I remember.”
“I didn’t.”
Derek gave a humorless laugh.
“Not until last year.”
A car pulled into the alley.
Veronica stepped out.
The moment she saw my car, she stopped.
Then
