Chapter 19: Birthday Forms

I got home at seven with my hair wet and Caleb's shirt under my jacket.

Mom was at the kitchen table in her scrubs.

Grandma sat across from her in a quilted robe, holding a cup in both hands.

Two big suitcases stood against the refrigerator, with a folded piece of paper pinned to the handle of one.

"Read it," Mom said.

I unpinned the note.

It was in Dennis's loopy handwriting.

*Ma, I can't keep two houses going and Maureen likes you better now. Stay with her a while. I'll be by. D.*

"He left her on the porch at five," Mom said. "He didn't come in."

"He left her like a package."

"Yes."

"And you took her."

"I didn't have a better plan at five in the morning."

"You had a plan for everything else."

Mom looked at me, and for once she didn't answer.

Grandma stared into her tea and said nothing, which was unlike her.

Dad came in from the garage side door, still in his work jacket, and stopped.

He looked at his mother and then at his wife.

It was the first time in a week he had stood in the same room with her.

"Maureen," he said.

"Frank."

"Is she all right?"

"She's eaten toast."

"Good."

That was all, and I could feel how much they weren't saying.

At nine the doorbell rang.

Dennis stood on the porch in his best blazer, holding a long white envelope in front of him.

He looked ten years older than he had at the party.

"Where's Frank?" he said.

"Here," said Dad.

"Frank." Dennis pushed past me into the hall. "I got the notice in the mail yesterday. Your name is on my note. Your name, Frank."

"It is."

"You can't foreclose on your own brother!"

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