spoon, the one she had licked all week, now coated in egg and resting right where she would eat. Peter folded his arms. “Funny,” he said calmly. “I thought you didn’t mind.” Carol’s face turned crimson. Then she noticed a small card tucked beside the plate, and her hands began to shake.

She snatched it up and read it aloud in a thin voice: “Every spoon you licked this week, you served to my son.” Liam appeared at the doorway, pale, holding a thermometer. “Grandma,” he said weakly, “my tummy hurts, and Daddy says I have a fever.” Carol’s anger vanished in an instant. Peter turned to me and quietly said, “Call Dr. Hayes. Now.”