Dad grabbed the remote, but he didn’t turn on the TV.

“Is Mickey here yet?” Myron asked.

His parents had come up to stay with Mickey while Mickey’s parents went on their retreat.

“He should be here any minute,” Dad said. “He’s bringing Ema to dinner. You know her?”

“Ema? Yeah.”

“She always wears black,” Dad said.

Mom from the other room: “Lots of women do, Al.”

“Not like that.”

Mom: “Black is slimming.”

“I’m not judging.”

Mom: “Yes, you are.”

“I am not!”

“You think she’s a big girl.”

“You’re the one talking about wearing black because it’s slimming, not me.” Dad turned to Myron. “Ema wears black nail polish. Black lipstick. Black mascara. Black hair. Not naturally black. I mean, like ink black. I don’t get it.”

Mom: “And who are you to get it?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Look at Mr. Haute Couture over there. What, you’re suddenly Yves Saint Laurent with the fashion tips?”

“I thought you were on the phone changing the order!”

“The number was busy.”

“So call back.”

“Yes, master. Right away.”

Dad sighed and shrugged. This was their way. Myron just sat back and enjoyed the show.

Dad leaned toward Myron and spoke in a low voice. “So where is Terese?”

“In Jackson Hole. On a job interview.”

“As an anchorwoman?”

“Something like that.”

“I remember when she was on the air. Before you two . . .” He brought his hands together and separated them and then brought them back together. “Your mother and I would really like to get to know her better.”

“You will.”

He leaned a little closer. “Your mother worries,” he said.

“What about?”

Dad was not one to hold back, and he didn’t now. “She worries that there is a sadness there.”

“With Terese.” Myron nodded. “And what about you? Do you worry?”

“I don’t interfere.”

“But if you did?”

“I see the sadness too,” Dad said. “But I also see strength. She’s been through a lot, hasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“She lost a child?”

“A long time ago, when she lived overseas, yeah.”

Dad shook his head. “I’m sorry to raise this.”

“It’s okay.”

“And you still don’t want to tell me why she was in Africa for so long?”

“I can’t,” Myron said. “It’s not my place to tell.”

“I respect that,” Dad said. He smiled now. “Terese was probably on a secret mission.”

“Something like that.”

“A secret mission,” Dad repeated, “like you in London?”

Myron said nothing.

“What, you think we didn’t know? You going to tell me what that was all about?”

Mom from the other room: “It was about that Moore kid who was rescued.”

Dad turned toward the kitchen. “How long have you been listening in?”

“I just started,” Mom said. “I totally missed the part where you threw me under the bus with that whole sad-fiancée thing.”

The front door burst open in a way that signaled a teenager was entering. Mickey stomped through the door with Ema close behind him. He looked at Myron. “Hey, what are you doing here?”