“Let me… hold on a second.”

He closed the door, walked into the kitchen. Mom followed him. I followed her. Dad was standing by the counter, staring at nothing.

“Rob.” Mom’s voice was tight. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a man outside. He’s hungry.”

“So give him some money or leftovers when we’re done.”

“He’s alone, Jen. On Thanksgiving.”

Oh, no. I knew that tone.

“Rob, be reasonable.”

“I’m going to invite him in.”

“Absolutely not.” Mom crossed her arms. “We don’t know him. He could be dangerous.”

“He’s not dangerous.”