I made it to the kitchen, hands clutching at the box in my arms so tightly my fingers were cramping by the time I set it on the counter. Petunia seemed to notice my anxiety, her squish face turned up toward me, black triangle ears perked. I bent and scratched her ruff for a moment, catching my breath that had nothing to do with the easy walk from the front door to the large, stainless steel countered space while Mom spoke.

"This will do fine, Dan," she said, all brusque ...