Maybe he’d been counting on getting that Cutting Edge job more than he thought.

Either that or his house had suddenly become haunted within the past five minutes.

Maybe Margot had died.

Or Tony.

He pushed the thoughts out of his mind. This way lay compulsion. Obsession. There were no ghosts, nothing weird, only his overactive imagination which, after lying in a coma for the past two decades, had suddenly decided to announce its existence.

Stress.

It had to be stress.

Nevertheless, he breathed a little easier when he was in the car and on the road to the grocery store and the house was safely behind him.

After dinner, Daniel sat with Tony at the kitchen table, helping his son with homework while Margot did the dishes.

Tony finally finished his assignment and asked if he could watch TV.

“Only until eight-thirty,” Daniel told him. “Then it’s time for bed. This is a school night.”

“But, Dad—”

“No buts.”

Tony slumped out of the kitchen and through the swinging door out to the living room.

“Next year, we’ll let him stay up until nine,” Margot said.

“If he keeps his grades up.”

She smiled. “Never thought you’d turn into your father, did you?”

Daniel pushed back his chair, walked over to the sink, and put his hands on her shoulders, giving her right ear a quick kiss. “I love you, Mrs. Anderson.”

“I know.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘I love you too’?”

“Actions speak louder than words.” She dropped her voice. “I thought I’d show you later.”

He grinned. “That’s why I love you.”

From outside, there was the sound of an unmuffled Charger engine, an earthquake rumble that roared to a crescendo before dying.

“Your brother’s here.” Daniel returned to his seat.

“Be nice to him.”

“Always am.”

“Brian looks up to you.”

“How much you want to bet that he brings up the fact that I’m still unemployed?”

She looked out the kitchen window, quickly went back to washing, pretending as though she didn’t know anyone was here. “Shut up.”

Brian knocked once, walked in. He nodded to his sister, sat down at the kitchen table. “Hey, buddy, you found a job yet?”

“No.”

“I got a lead on something. It might not pan out, but this guy at the site has a brother who deejays. You know, parties and dances and shit like that? He’s looking for someone to help him haul equipment. It’s a part-time gig, nights mostly, but, hey, it’s something. Might even pick up a few tips.”

Daniel shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not, man? Haul in a few speakers, hang, listen to some tunes, get paid for it? Can’t get much breezier than that.”

“Dance music depresses me.”