Grace looked at the doorknob.
Then at the hallway.
Then at me.
For the first time since she’d arrived, she didn’t have an immediate answer.
She didn’t have an immediate answer.
About an hour later, I was loading the dishwasher when I heard metal clink upstairs.
I found Grace in the hallway.
She was holding Harold’s screwdriver.
The bedroom door was still leaning against the wall.
She was holding Harold’s screwdriver.
She looked at the neatly arranged screws she’d removed the day before.
Then at me.
“Where is Harold?”
“Garage.”
“Tell him I need help holding this.”
I leaned against the wall.
“Are you putting it back?”
“Tell him I need help holding this.”
Grace sighed.
“I suppose I went too far.”
“You took off my bedroom door.”
She looked at it.
“Yes.”
A few seconds passed.
Then she tried again.
“I went too far.”
