Pat wove his way up the walk. Following him, Conor grabbed the plastic trike, righted it, and set it on the porch under the eave. Leena already had the door open. A toy guitar dangled from her fingertips, and wet patches covered the front of her shorts and T-shirt. Bath time had been recently completed, and she was still in the clutter-clearing phase of the evening that followed what she called lockdown rather than bedtime.

She propped a hand on her hip and gave her husband a mock admonishment. “Celebrate much?”

Hoisting himself off the white wrought-iron railing, Pat mumbled something that sounded like “love you” and leaned over to give his wife a kiss.

“Love you too. Get inside before you fall down.” Leena waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh geez, Conor, you let him drink scotch?”

“Sorry, Leena.” Conor steered Pat over the threshold and into the living room. Pat took three crooked steps across the Berber and stretched out on the living room sofa as if he couldn’t possibly walk another step.

Conor gave his sister-in-law a peck on the cheek. “He’s all yours.”

“Gee, thanks.” Grinning, Leena closed the front door. Strands of her dark hair had escaped its ponytail. A damp lock fell over her eye, and she pushed it behind her ear. A wiggly mass of chocolate-colored fur, their new Labrador puppy, yapped and wagged from the other side of a gate across the doorway to the kitchen.

“How’s Killer?”

“He’s a good boy. Thankfully, crayons aren’t toxic.” Leena went to the gate and scratched the pup’s head. “Are you sure you don’t want a puppy? There are still two left.”

“Positive.” Conor thought of the dog currently sleeping in Louisa’s bed. Kirra should stay there. “My apartment’s too small, and I’m never in it.”

“A dog would be good company. You spend too much time alone.”

“Alone? I’m never alone. I’m always in the bar.”

“You know what I mean.”

A giggle drifted down the stairwell that ran along the living room wall. Someone was still up.

Leena dropped the plastic guitar into an open bin in the corner, walked to the base of the steps, and cupped a hand around her mouth. “Don’t make me come up there.”

Silence.

Yep. No question. Leena was the boss.

“You need help getting him upstairs?”

“Like we could get him up those steps.” Leena laughed. “He’s fine where he is.” She had a point. The stairwell was narrow and steep, barely enough room for Pat when he was steady on his feet. “Tomorrow’s backache will remind him why he isn’t much of a drinker,” Leena said without the faintest trace of pity.

“No doubt.”