My argument with Elizabeth has me down. I even called my nephews and canceled family dinner this week, although Orla told me she’s still coming over to do her laundry. I suspect she’s coming to fret over me. Or maybe to yell some more.

When my doorbell rings, I assume it’s her, ringing because her arms are too full to open the door. But I see Jake standing out there clutching his physics notebook, looking eager.

”Kellen,” he shouts ...