The uniformed officer didn’t argue, just shrugged, as if to say, It’s your front-page funeral, and prepared to stroll over to the front porch. Max, however, could see the writing on the wall. He descended the steps on his own, his jovial smile still firmly in place though his motions were jerky, a man doing what he had to do, not what he wanted to do.

“Guess I’ll check into my hotel now,” Max consented grandly, nodding once in Jason’s direction.

The reporters had quieted. They appeared to be connecting the presence of the uniformed officer to the actions of the white-haired man and were now keenly watching the show.

“’Course,” Max said to Jason, “I look forward to visiting with my granddaughter first thing in the morning.”

“Not gonna happen,” Jason replied evenly, heading back toward the house, where Ree waited for him.

“Now, son, I wouldn’t say that if I were you,” Max called after him.

Despite his better intention, Jason found himself pausing, turning, regarding his father-in-law.

“I know something,” the old man said quietly, soft enough that only Jason and the uniformed officer could hear. “For example: I know the date you first met my daughter, and I know the date my granddaughter was born.”

“No you don’t. Sandy never called you when she had Ree.”

“Public record, Jason Jones. Public record. Now, don’t you think it’s time to let bygones be bygones?”

“Not gonna happen,” Jason repeated firmly, though his heart was pounding hard. For the third time in one day, he was discovering danger where there hadn’t been danger before.

He gave Maxwell his back, climbing the front steps, working the lock on the door. He got it open, to find Ree standing in the middle of the entryway her lower lip trembling, her eyes glazed over with tears.

He shut the door and she threw herself into his arms.

“Daddy, I’m scared. Daddy, I’m scared!”

“Shhh, shhh, shhh.” He held her close. He stroked his daughter’s hair, inhaled the comforting scent of Johnson’s No More Tears shampoo.

“I love you,” he whispered against the top of Ree’s head, even as he wondered if Max would take her from him.

Jason made waffles for dinner. Breakfast for supper was a time-honored treat, and the familiar ritual of beating water and waffle mix calmed him. Jason poured the batter over the steaming griddle. Ree sat on the edge of the counter, steadfastly watching the red griddle light. When it went off, it would be time to eat. She took her timer duties seriously.