You’ll need the key.”
I held it out. One of Dwayne’s new brass keys, on a ring with a little plastic tag that said Shop.
He came up the steps slowly and took it out of my hand.
He looked at it. Then at me.
“I haven’t been in Dad’s shop since the funeral,” he said.
“I know.”
He opened the workshop for the first time in fourteen years.
I stood in the doorway and watched him.
Everything was still there. Nile’s workbench. His tools hanging on the pegboard in
