His hand went to the Glock, and he had it out and low as he spun around, looking for the source of the noise.

“Oh my God. Stop, stop, stop!”

Rebeca’s voice came from an upstairs window in the house next door. Somers followed the sound of it and found himself staring up at a harried-looking Rebeca and a very worried-looking Roman, who would be starting first grade in the fall—if, that was, his mother didn’t kill him, which looked like it might be a possibility. A pellet gun drooped in Roman’s arms, and Rebeca caught it as it slid out of the window.

“Uh,” Rebeca was staring at Somers. “Uh.”

Somers holstered the Glock and held up both hands. “Ceasefire?”

The smile that crossed her face was thin and pasty. “John-Henry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

“No, he—he shot out one of your windows.” She ducked her head back inside the house, shouted for Noah, and then gave Roman a push away from the window. “He’s coming right down to apologize, and we’re going to call somebody to replace the window right now, and—”

“Ok, hey, slow down. How about we don’t do this Romeo and Juliet style?”

Rebeca gave another of those too-thin smiles, nodded, and disappeared from the window. A minute later, the front door opened, and Noah, looking decidedly less goofy at that particular moment, marched a sobbing Roman out onto the front lawn. What followed was an incoherent apology broken up by huge, choking sobs, and it mostly consisted of Somers giving the boy a hug and patting his back and telling him it was ok, while Noah muttered, “It is definitely not ok, Roman, it is definitely not ok,” in the background.

“A couple of these places aren’t answering,” Rebeca said, stepping out onto the porch as she tapped at her phone. “But I’m sure—”

“Everybody take a breath,” Somers said, trying to smile, because the window was just one more thing, just the cherry on top. “Everybody calm down. Even if you do find someone tonight, they’re going to charge you an arm and a leg. Just stop, Rebeca. I’ll put some plywood over the window tonight, and then tomorrow, I’ll get the glass and reglaze it myself.”

“Absolutely not,” Noah said. “We’re paying for that window. Roman is paying for that window, even if it means I’m sending him to the acid mines in Kuala Lumpur for the rest of his life.”

Roman repeated, “Acid mines,” and started wailing.

“Sweet Lord,” Rebeca said to Noah, “do you see what you did?”

And then Noah had to take Roman back inside, carrying him, and as the screen door clattered shut, he was explaining that Roman didn’t really have to go to the acid mines.

“Please,” Rebeca said, “let me do this. You’re exhausted; I don’t know the details, but I know things are crazy for you at work right now.”

“It’s five minutes with a drill and a piece of plywood,” Somers said, gently forcing her phone down. “Go back inside. Before Noah makes Roman pack a bag to go live with the trolls or something like that.”