The second she opened the door, I knew. Her eyes were rimmed with red, a deep, exhausted sorrow. Then I stepped inside. Dad’s recliner, the one with the busted lever and the permanent grease stains, was gone. In its place was a stiff, overpriced chair that looked like it belonged in a hotel lobby. The wall above the fireplace, where his wrench sets used to hang like artwork, was now covered in framed quotes. Discipline Equals Freedom. Be the CEO of Your Own Life. Hank’s brand of bargain-bin wisdom.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice low.