Larry held up the hinge.
“I asked them not to.”
“They’d taken the pantry door down.”
My fingers closed around it.
“Why were they taking it down?”
“Mom said she’s making things safer,” Larry said. “Clearing things out. Replacing a few things.”
“What things?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Why were they taking it down?”
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Larry wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“The man said the old door was going away.”
Tom handed him a tissue.
Larry ignored it.
“Grandpa’s writing is on it.”
“The man said the old door was going away.”
I turned the hinge in my palm. My eight-year-old grandson had decided a piece of hardware needed rescuing.
I reached for my phone.
Tom said, “Elaine, before you call her, there’s something else.”
I looked up.
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“She told me you agreed to all this.”
My eight-year-old grandson had decided a piece of hardware needed rescuing.
