I don’t know how much time passes before Mom appears in the doorway, swinging a towel through the air to fan the smoke. She calls to us, “I think it’s okay to come in.”

We file into the still slightly smoky kitchen, and I see the kettle sitting on the counter all charred and battered. Mama sits at the table. Gramps too. Noah leans against the fridge. And I take a seat next to Gramps.

“Dad,” Mom says, pacing as she waves her hand at the stove. “What happened?”

“I—” he begins, but immediately stops. “I don’t know. Why do you assume it was me?”

“Because, Ed,” Mama says, “you were the only one down here.”

“I—I think,” he stutters through the words, “I was making your tea, Katie.”

“Dad, I didn’t ask you to make me tea.”

“Yes, you did,” he argues. “You couldn’t sleep. And I must have . . . forgotten about it. I dozed off.”

“I didn’t ask you to make me tea,” she repeats more firmly.

“What do you want from me?” he says in a gruff voice, suddenly standing from his chair. “What are you accusing me of?”

“Dad,” Mom begins, but Gramps cuts her off.

“No! You—you’re keeping me here against my will. You expect me to be able to get settled in here without any of my belongings? I’m living out of a suitcase, for crying out loud! Of course I’m out of sorts—anyone would be!” he yells.

Mama looks startled, and she stands up now too. “Lower your voice, Ed,” she says to him. “The kids.”

“Dad, what are you talking about?” Mom shouts. “You do have your things here.”

“Remember, we went to get them already,” Mama tells him. “We’re going to go back to get the rest, but—”

“Really?” he snaps, crossing his arms. “When?”

“I—I don’t know,” Mama answers.

“I’ll tell you when: never!” He thumps his fist against the counter, making us all jump. “It will never happen, because you don’t want me here to begin with.”

Mom has sat down at the table and rests her head in her hands.

“Mom?” I whisper, setting my hand on her shoulder. She pats it once, but doesn’t say anything.

Mama continues, “I know things are probably confusing for you right now—”

“Confusing?” Gramps yells, cutting Mama off. “I’m not confused at all! I think you’re the one who’s confused!”

“You know we’re all on the same side here, Ed,” Mama says in her firm yet understanding teacher voice.

Mom straightens up in her chair, but when she speaks her voice is frayed and small. “You know, Dad, this is an adjustment for everyone, but we can’t start lashing out at each other.”

Mama lets out a sigh and says, “Kids, everything is okay, all right? Noah, why don’t you take Sadie back upstairs?”