time, the front door was open.
Music played from the kitchen.
I heard voices before I reached the porch.
Derek was arguing with Dad over the correct finish for a walnut table.
Veronica was telling them both they were impossible.
Mom was laughing.
Luis had flown in for the weekend.
I stepped inside carrying groceries.
Mom looked up.
“Gabriel!”
“You need help?”
“No.”
She pointed toward the table.
“Sit.”
I obeyed.
Dad looked at the grocery bags.
“You bought the wrong coffee.”
“I bought the coffee you asked for.”
“I
