Darrell sat at Duchess’ kitchen table. The breakfast dishes were still out. Spilled milk pooled on the plastic tablecloth. He heard her speaking calmly to her youngest son from upstairs while the child wailed his disagreement.
Darrell rose from his seat. He pulled the dishes from the sink and placed them in the dishwasher. He rung out the dish rag and wiped the table down.
By the time he straightened, Duchess framed the kitchen entrance. “You don’t have to do that.”
Darrell shook his head with a chuckle. He didn’t understand the idea of not doing what he saw needed to be done. “It’s no big deal.” He tossed the rag into the sink. “Is your sister able to make it?”
Duchess shook her head. “I know I’ve canceled on you two nights in a row. I thought lunch would be a sure thing, but my young
