‘I’ll fix it.’

The styrofoam shell is the hard inner layer of the case, covered by black fabric with a thick seam along the edge. I fetch some scissors from the kitchen – two pairs, different sizes – and a knife. Lacy is sitting with her hands in her lap, gazing blankly at the case.

‘It’s styrofoam,’ she says.

‘If it’s a clean break, we can maybe fix it.’ I take a close look at the case, at the seams. ‘I can cut this and we can restitch it.’

I work the tip of the nail scissors under the thread and snip it. I push one scissor blade in and cut my way along. The seam opens cleanly. Lacy kneels down beside me to watch the progress. I can feel the broken piece moving. As I cut around the curve, the scissors slip free. The case bursts open, pulped beads of styrofoam spilling onto the floor.

‘Stop,’ Lacy says. ‘Stop.’

I let go of the fabric and a few more beads tumble out. It can’t be fixed, never will be. I drop the scissors and scoop up a handful of beads. They squeak between my fingers and scatter. Tiny spheres, white dots on the carpet. Lacy grabs my other hand and squeezes it. I drop the rest of the beads and add that hand too to hers, our three hands holding each other. She takes a breath in, and lets it out. Her grip is strong, as if it’s bracing to carry her weight, keep her on a ledge.

‘We’ll get them a new one,’ I tell her, her grandmother’s wedding ring hard between my hands, big among her bony fingers. ‘Three tool cabinets today, and a house listing happening. This’ll be okay.’

‘Yeah.’ Each breath falls out of her in a sigh.

She blinks and sniffs. She gives one more squeeze before slipping her hand out from between mine. She pushes herself back up onto the chair and surveys the scene – the cut case, the sprayed beads, the intact quarter cello that the case sacrificed itself to protect. The scissors and knife clink in my hand as I pick them up.

‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘For doing that. For storming in like some emergency surgical team.’ Her pale lips shift into an uneven smile. ‘Even when the patient was beyond all hope. It looks like I stomped on its head.’

‘Well, easy to get a new one.’ I stand up and rearrange the various blades I’m holding. ‘New case, I mean. Not a new head.’

‘Oh,’ she says, just as I’m about to go back to the kitchen. ‘Jackson mentioned that school thing coming up, that Dads’ Breakfast event, checked that Cedar was going.’ She nods, giving me a moment to shift topics with her. ‘That’s why I was in here earlier with the phone. Just checking with Travis.’

‘And he’s in? Still?’

‘Yeah.’ She nods again. ‘He says so.’ She keeps looking at me. Waiting.