Behind us, Graham stood in the brightly lit doorway, his silhouette small against the grand frame of the house.

He didn’t follow us to the car.

He was too afraid of what his mother or the neighbors might see if he made a scene on the lawn.

I unlocked the car, and the girls climbed into the back seat without a word.

The doors closed with a solid, muffled thud, shutting out the noise of the crickets.

I started the engine and put the car in drive.

As we pulled out of the driveway, I looked in the rearview mirror.

The lights of the Highland Park mansion receded into the darkness.

I drove a few blocks away, turning onto a quieter, tree-lined street near Turtle Creek, and pulled over to the curb.

I turned off the headlights but kept the engine running so the air conditioning would keep the girls cool.

“Are we going to Grandma’s house again?” Hazel asked from the back.

“No, sweetie,” I said, looking back at her. “We’re going to a nice place tonight. Just the three of us.”