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“Yeah, I talked with them both. Insurance will cover the damage to the house. They’re upset, but not at Marlo. Worried about her, and they asked me to let her know they’re sorry this happened.”

“They’re good people. There are more good people than not, but most of the time, the nots make more noise.”

They were still at it when Owen came by to pitch in. Not long after, Marlo’s neighbors the Baileys did the same. At some point, Corrine huddled with Marcia Bailey.

“Here’s the plan,” Corrine announced. “I’ve spoken with Marlo—”

“You—Mom.”

“Not on any legal issue. I’m hardly a novice at this, Trey. Doyle Law Offices—Sadie is arranging—will ship the boxes of items Marlo needs and wants to her.”

Pausing, she sighed a little. “Basically nothing more than her clothes and some things for her boys.”

“Clean slate.” With a push broom, Owen cleared the floor in the small ell of a dining area. “Makes sense.”

“It does,” Corrine agreed. “And with that in mind, we have her permission to hold a yard sale for everything that we’ve salvaged and she no longer wants.”

At the thought of it, Trey pressed his hands to his eyes. “A yard sale?”

“That’s right, and you can stop looking for complications there, as Marcia, Lorna, and I, along with a few other ladies, will handle it. We’ll leave it to the rest of you to be the muscle, dispose of what’s beyond salvaging, and move what is salvageable outside on Saturday morning. Bright and early. Anything left, donated.”

She swiped her palms together. “Then done.”

“I still need to—”

Corrine pointed at her son. “Stop worrying about it tonight. What needs to be done will be. Now I’m going home to clean up and change because I’ve decided your father’s taking me out to dinner.”

She went to Trey, hugged him hard. “Walk away for tonight. Go see your girl.”

Owen waited while Trey secured the house.

“Your mom’s a born organizer. And she’s right. You should head up to the manor.”

“Can’t shake the mood, the pissed-off mood.”

“So a beer, a hot meal, and sex should take care of it. I’d come up for the first two, but I want to finish Yoda’s doghouse.”

“I’ll help with that.”

“Don’t need you. And didn’t Sonya say she had a story to tell you?”

“Yeah, right.” Annoyed on every level, Trey dragged his hand through his hair. “I forgot about that.”

“Well, it’s not like you had a few other things on your mind. Tell them I’ve invited myself up tomorrow.”

“All right.”

He did his best to cool the anger still simmering inside him. But he kept seeing the soiled sheets, the broken toys, the holes in the wall where Wes had punched his fist.

He told himself an evening with Sonya was just what he needed, and the least productive thing—what he felt more inclined toward—would be to brood at home trying to figure out what he could have done, might have done, should have done to prevent any of it.

So he picked up his dog and drove both of them to the manor.

A light rain with hints of wet snow blew in as he topped the hill. A reminder of April in Maine.

He told himself he’d shrugged off the worst of the last two days when he let himself and the delighted Mookie into the house.

While Yoda and Mookie greeted each other like long-separated brothers and the cat slunk in for some adoration, Trey walked back to the kitchen.