“Whatever you say,” Harry had replied, not making eye contact, and his father had let him get away with it. But what his father had said had stuck with Harry through the following years. He missed his mother constantly, but he did feel close to his bookish, low-key dad. It was a family of two. Not nearly enough, but it was what it was.

And now he was a family of one, Harry thought.

The vacuuming had stopped, and Harry stepped out of his room, went down the stairs, coughing purposefully when he reached the first floor so that he wouldn’t startle Alice. He entered the large front living room, spotted her lying on one of the sofas, the crook of her arm across her eyes as though she had a headache. He began to turn away when she said, “Harry, come in. Talk with me.”

“That’s okay. Keep sleeping.”

“No, no. Come here.”

Harry sat on the edge of the oldest upholstered chair in the room, a transplant from the Manhattan apartment, and said, “Have the police told you anything more?”

“They haven’t, but they’ll be doing a full autopsy.”

“It seems strange that he would fall.”

“Something else might have happened. He could have had a heart attack.”

“Do you think so?”

“It makes more sense to me than him suddenly slipping off the path and—”

“Had it rained?” Harry asked.

“Um, a few days ago, I think, but I don’t think the path would have been slippery. We’ll learn more from the autopsy. It’ll be important for you, too, Harry, in case, for instance, he had a weak heart.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said. The thought hadn’t occurred to him, that his father’s death at an early age might be a harbinger for him, as well, if it had been a natural death. He bit at the inside of his cheek, an old habit that was suddenly resurfacing, and wondered if he’d care if a doctor told him that his father had a weak heart that he’d inherited. He tried to feel something—some fear for his own future—but couldn’t. What would it matter?

Alice pushed forward a little on the sofa. “Your father was really looking forward to you coming here for the summer. He talked about it a lot.”

Harry, not trusting his own voice, nodded his head, and Alice immediately asked, “How was your coffee? Was it the way you like it?”

“Oh, it was fine,” Harry answered, then quickly added, “Better than fine. It was really good.”

“Thank you,” Alice said, placing her palms on her knees as though she was about to stand, and Harry added, “Don’t get up. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He stood. “Maybe I’ll take a walk or something.”