I know the futility of changing the subject—their fight will resume later a hundred times anyway.

Regardless, I speak up. “I think I should talk to Aubrey.”

“She’s asleep. I told her. She’s fine.” Frank’s words are birdshot in my face.

I doubt she’s sleeping, and I know that no three-year-old is going to be fine hearing that her mommy has gone to heaven.

“Helen says she’s awake,” I say, looking over at Sophie’s mother, trying to reel in some support.

“She’s not, Adam,” Frank says. He struggles for a beat to get out of his leather lounge chair but gives up. He’s stuck. Good, I think.

“She needs her father,” I say.

I know I’ve just flipped the switch: Frank’s going to lift his leg to pee on me.

“She needs a stable home,” he says.

He fails at getting up again. Good.

“What are you getting at?” I ask.

“Don’t play stupid just because you’re in front of my wife. I know that you were a lousy, unfaithful husband. My daughter forgave you. But I never did.”

I feel my face grow hot. I never had an affair. Ever. Not one time.

Sophie did. She cheated on me. I feel like screaming that at the big, fat, balding boob. But I don’t. I never even told Sophie that I knew about her affair. Confrontation would have made it worse. And honestly, I just didn’t know where I stood. I thought if I pushed her to make a choice that the love of my life wouldn’t have picked me at all.

“I never cheated on her,” I finally say. “Not one time.”

Helen speaks up. “See, Frank. I told you. Adam says he didn’t.”

“His word is dog shit.”

Just then Aubrey appears. She’s wearing a pale pink nightgown, a garment I don’t immediately recognize.

“Hi, baby,” I say.

“Daddy!”

She runs into my arms, and I lift her up to the popcorn-and-glitter ceiling.

“Mommy’s in heaven,” she says.

“She is, Aubrey,” I tell her as I feel my in-laws’ gazes drill into me.

“I want to be an angel,” she says.

“You are an angel right here on earth,” I say. Holding her takes away some of the anger I feel toward Frank, and I reluctantly set her down. I shift to my mother-in-law. “We need to go home, Helen.”

“Why don’t you spend the night?” she asks.

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“Like hell you do,” says Frank. “Tomorrow’s Memorial Day.”

He’s got me there. “Oh,” I say. “Right.”

“And even if it wasn’t, your stupid job can wait. Your wife’s been murdered. What’s the matter with you?”

I don’t want to stay there. I hate being there.

“Please,” Helen says.

I finally give in.

“All right. I’ll stay over.”

“Do you like my nightie?” Aubrey asks. “It’s Mommy’s. It’s from when she was a little girl.”

Helen smiles a sad smile. “I found it the other day when I was reorganizing the garage. I was going to give it to Sophie so she could pass it on.” She bends down to her granddaughter and strokes her hair. She plants a kiss on the top of Aubrey’s head. “She’d think you were the prettiest girl in the world right now. Right, Frank?”