When we got home, Eric was coming out of the living room with half a glass of water in his hand.
He saw Neil carrying several pumpkins through the door, and his expression paused, like he was trying to decide whether his son had finally started bringing home school-event junk as trophies. His eyes moved from the orange pumpkins to Neil’s face before he spoke, his tone carrying a little resignation.
“Are you planning to turn the front window into a Halloween display?”
Neil set the pumpkins one by one on the kitchen island with the casual confidence of someone putting down a few books.
“Pretty much. The house could use some atmosphere.”
Eric looked at the island, then at me, since I had followed Neil in, before his attention returned to Neil. He did not object right away. But when Neil
