Diane’s mouth opened. Nothing came out.
“This is my home,” Jake said. “Mine and Rachel’s. Come here in good faith and you’re always welcome. Come here with that ledger — and I’m not opening the door.”
Diane stood in the middle of the yard. For the first time, she looked like a guest.
She stopped crying. She wiped her face with her hand, turned, and walked toward the house.
I got to the door before she did. I held the screen door open.
“Go home for now,” I said. “When you want to see us, call first and set a time. That’s how guests come to a house. That’s how my own mother comes to mine. Pick who you want to be — either way, you’re welcome.”
She stared at the screen door. I could see she still wanted to talk. But everyone in that yard was watching.
She reached into her skirt pocket and took out a key.
