She spoke gently.
“Don't let Sandra turn your home into another assignment.”
I stared toward the window.
For several seconds, I said nothing.
Then whispered, “I'm trying.”
“I know.”
She paused.
“Just remember why you moved there.”
I looked toward the basketball hoop beside the driveway.
“Eli.”
“Exactly.”
That evening, we sat with him at Hannah's kitchen table.
Eli held a glass of orange juice.
He looked serious.
Too serious for a boy who normally spent dinner explaining why basketball was more interesting than homework.
He looked toward me.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Were those guys real police?”
“No.”
His eyes widened.
“Then why did they have badges?”
I considered the question.
“They were private workers wearing uniforms that made them look more official than they were.”
He frowned.
“Were they allowed to take your car?”
“That's part of what's being investigated. I didn't give permission, and they didn't show lawful authority that justified taking it.”
Eli looked down.
For several seconds, he was quiet.
Then he asked, “Did one of them hurt you?”
My chest tightened.
“He shoved me. I'm okay.”
Eli's eyes filled.
Hannah moved closer.
I reached across the table.
“Hey.”
He looked up.
“The police came. The car stayed. Everyone is safe.”
He nodded.
Then asked the question I'd been dreading.
“Are we going to have to move?”
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
I thought about the first day he walked into the house.
The basketball.
The garage.
The treehouse he'd planned.
All the ordinary happiness I'd wanted to build.
Then I shook my head.
“No, buddy.”
He studied me.
“Promise?”
I took a breath.
“I promise I'm going to do everything I reasonably can to keep our home safe and handle this properly.”
Hannah nodded.
Eli seemed satisfied.
Then he looked toward me.
“Can I still have my birthday ride in the Porsche?”
I laughed softly.
“Absolutely.”
He smiled.
Then became serious again.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to fight that lady?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He frowned.
“But she was mean.”
“I know.”
“Then why not?”
I looked toward Hannah.
Then back at my son.
“Because being angry doesn't mean you should use your hands to solve a problem.”
He thought about that.
I continued.