In the kitchen, his mother was busily cleaning the stove top. The slick black surface usually took no more effort than a quick wipe with a damp sponge, but today she attacked it like she was determined to rub a hole through it. He wondered what she might have cooked that left such a mess behind.

A box of cereal on the table had enough left for one last bowl, as did the carton of milk. She continued to scrub. He crunched on cereal with his mouth open—a serious no-no—loud enough to get her attention. But it didn’t work. She scrubbed even harder.

Something was wrong. “Mom?”

“Oh!” She dropped the sponge and nearly knocked over a can of scouring powder. “Henry. Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?” She wiped a fine mist of sweat from her forehead and tucked a loose strand of hair behind an ear.

Henry rested the spoon in the bowl. She can’t be serious! “Mom, where’s Dad?”

Her arms tensed and her voice strained to control emotion. “Why, he’s away on business, silly. You know that.”

“No, he’s not! I saw him last night in his office. You were there!” Henry was surprised at the anger he projected.

Before she could answer, Brianna bounded into the room. “Hi, Henry! Hi, Mommy!” She ran into their mother with a tackling hug.

“Brianna, where’s Dad?” Henry demanded.

“How should I know?” With a carefree bounce she started out of the kitchen.

“Wait a minute!” he barked sharply, and blocked her path. “Mom, what’s going on?”

“Let me go, Henry.” Brianna pouted.

“Henry, what’s gotten into you? Leave your sister alone.” His mother stepped toward him, almost threatening, but Henry refused to move.

“No. I saw Dad last night, and so did you. We were in his office! You yelled … ”

His mother’s finger snapped up, stopping Henry midrant. She squatted next to Brianna. “Honey, why don’t you run outside and play. Mommy will be right there.”

“Okay.” Brianna looked like a frightened kitten as she bolted out the back door.

Henry turned on his mother, his frustration building. “I know you saw him because I was there with you!”

“Watch your tone with me, young man,” she scolded. “And don’t go frightening your sister.”

“But—”

“No buts,” she interrupted. “Your father stopped home to get something he forgot. Now I suggest you forget you ever saw him. We don’t want to upset your sister.”

“Mom, something’s not right,” Henry pleaded.

His mother’s features softened. “You shouldn’t worry. For all intents and purposes, your father was not here last night.”

There was something about the way she said it. As if there was a hidden or double meaning.

And while he didn’t really understand, he knew she was telling him the honest truth.