“This is my home.”
Her smile didn’t change. “We’ll talk later then, sweetie.”
Aunt Sammie appeared at my side.
**
My name came from behind me.
“Clover?”
I turned.
An older man stood there — maybe late 60s. He was clean-shaven but deeply creased. His tie was too tight, like someone else had knotted it for him. He held his cup in both hands, like it might slip.
“I’m sorry…” I said slowly. “Did you know my dad from work?”
