He was handsome in a low-key way; dark straight hair. One lock fell forward across his forehead and the rest of it he wore shoulder length. On most men, this style is not flattering, but fellows will persist. He was otherwise clean-shaven with straight brows and green eyes. He carried the baby to one of a pair of brown leather couches separated by a big blond-wood coffee table. He laid her on her back and picked up a disposable diaper from a wicker basket at his feet. Binky arched her back and turned one shoulder, intent on rolling over. I figured babies must be like turtles; when they’re on their backs, they’re always working to right themselves. There was a doorknob resting between couch cushions. Ethan handed it to the baby. She held it by the shaft like a lollipop and gnawed on it, sufficiently distracted that he was able to proceed with the diaper change. If Big Rat wanted his doorknobs back, he was going to have to come over here and wrestle with Binky, who was clearly attached.

She had perfect baby looks, like something you’d see in a print ad for baby food. Her brother was also blessed with prettiness; big dark eyes, curly dark hair, luscious coloring. He returned to a small table and chairs, arranged to the right of the kitchen door. He was in the middle of a scribbly piece of art, using a red marker pen.

Ethan was decked out in jeans, desert boots, and a white long-sleeve waffle-pattern shirt with a button placket that suggested thermal underwear. I watched him tape a clean diaper into place, after which he made a neat bundle of the urine-soaked specimen he’d just removed. This he placed on the coffee table, where it sat like a big, white plastic turd. He lifted Binky and stood her upright against the table. I watched her sidle around the edge, banging on the top intermittently with her doorknob when it wasn’t in her mouth. Maybe she was teething and the metal felt good on her gums.

He leaned toward me with his elbows on his knees, returning to the subject at hand. “By bad news, I’m assuming my father passed away.”

“He did. Last week. I’m sorry to have to spring it on you.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” he said. “What happened?”

“He was found in his sleeping bag at the beach. He probably died of a heart attack. The coroner’s investigator is still hoping to track down his medical records.”

Scott piped up and said, “Daddy, you didn’t give us any lunch yet.” Not whining or lodging a complaint, simply stating a fact.

Ethan said, “Shit. Hang on a sec.”