He stood near the entrance, his coat collar turned up against the draft, watching us with a look of quiet understanding.

After a few minutes, David pulled back and wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket.

“I’m sorry,” David said, looking at Harold. “I was rude to you.”

“You were protecting your family,” Harold said. “There is no need to apologize for that.”

David looked down at the brass key in his hand.

He walked over to the workbench and laid it down next to the iron vise.

“Maybe we can keep it,” David said. “Just for now.”

“We don’t have to decide everything today,” I said.

“No,” Harold agreed. “One day at a time is usually enough.”

Rachel smiled, her eyes wet.

“Let’s go inside,” Rachel said. “I’ll make some tea.”

“That sounds good,” I said.

We walked out of the workshop, and David locked the door behind us.

The air outside was cold and clean, washed by the autumn rain.

We walked up the back steps and into the warm kitchen.