AFTER A SUMMER in an empty house, footsteps were thunder, clanging in the kitchen, a parade. Startled awake, Fritz checked the clock. 6:45.
AFTER A SUMMEREmily stood at the stove, bacon and sausage speeding his wake-up. “Good morning,” she said. As he clutched a cup and poured, he asked her what time she got up. She forked the bacon onto a sheet of paper towel. “Around five-thirty. It"s a habit for thirty years. It"s my only quiet time, usually. But you and Joe need to get moving. Time"s a wasting.”
“Nothing needs to be done this early, Emily.”
“Do I have to find things for you to do? TJ will be up about now. You better get used to it. You"ll be back at school in a week. Do you have your phone?”
“It"s upstairs.”
“Go get it. Linda will be making Tim breakfast right about now, before he
