I call Delta Airlines first and book an afternoon flight to Baton Rouge—not our final destination, but the closest major airport to it. Simply making the call sets something thrumming in my chest. Annie awakens as I arrange for a rental car, perhaps even in sleep sensing the utter resolution in her father’s voice. She sits quietly beside me on the bed, her left hand on my thigh, reassuring herself that I can go nowhere without her.

“Are we going on the airplane again, Daddy?”

“That’s right, punkin,” I answer, dialing a Houston number.

“Back home?”

“No, we’re going to see Gram and Papa.”

Her eyes widen with joyous expectation. “Gram and Papa? Now?”

“I hope so. Just a minute.” My assistant, Cilla Daniels, is speaking in my ear. She obviously saw the name of the hotel on the caller-ID unit and started talking the moment she picked up. I break in before she can get rolling. “Listen to me, Cil. I want you to call a storage company and lease enough space for everything in the house.”

“The house?” she echoes. “Your house? You mean ‘everything’ as in furniture?”

“Yes. I’m selling the house.”

“Selling the house. Penn, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’ve come to my senses, that’s all. Annie’s never going to get better in that house. And Sarah’s parents are still grieving so deeply that they’re making things worse. I’m moving back home for a while.”

“Home?”

“To Natchez.”

“Natchez.”

“Mississippi. Where I lived before I married Sarah? Where I grew up?”

“I know that, but—”

“Don’t worry about your salary. I’ll need you now more than ever.”

“I’m not worried about my salary. I’m worried about you. Have you talked to your parents? Your mother called yesterday and asked for your number down there. She sounded upset.”

“I’m about to call them. After you get the storage space, call some movers and arrange transport. Let Sarah’s parents have anything they want out of the house. Then call Jim Noble and tell him to sell the place. And I don’t mean list it, I mean sell it.”

“The housing market’s pretty soft right now. Especially in your bracket.”

“I don’t care if I eat half the equity. Move it.”

There’s an odd silence. Then Cilla says, “Could I make you an offer on it? I won’t if you never want to be reminded of the place.”

“No . . . it’s fine. You need to get out of that condo. Can you come anywhere close to a realistic price?”

“I’ve got quite a bit left from my divorce settlement. You know me.”