Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
“I called them from the car yesterday,” I said. “The service at this address transfers out on Friday at noon.”
“That gives us forty-eight hours,” Shaun said, tapping his foot against the bottom rung of the slide.
“He will not be back until Friday evening,” I said, though my hand went to my gold wedding ring, turning it twice around my knuckle.
“If his friends decide to drive back early, he could be here by Thursday night,” Shaun said.
“They paid for the beach house through Friday morning,” I said. “Ryan never leaves a place early if he has already paid for it.”
“We still have to be fast,” Shaun said, pulling a roll of packing tape from his back pocket.
The sound of the tape pulling free was loud in the quiet morning, a sharp, tearing screech that made me look back toward the house.
Our three cribs were still up in the nursery, but the boxes of baby clothes were already piled in the hallway, waiting.
“Is Martha coming back with the boxes from the grocery store?” Shaun asked.
