They waved from the porch with practiced warmth, luggage disproportionate to cat-sitting. He pretended not to see the wheeled trunk, the garment bag, and the extra shoes. A week is generous, he decided, climbing into the rideshare. He texted the alarm code anyway, because he was polite, occasionally too polite.
Between meetings, reassuring messages pinged his phone. Cat excellent. Plants perky. One photo showed his aunt beside the grand piano, thumbs up; another, his uncle adjusting the thermostat as if awarding efficiency medals. A final text arrived uninvited: House feels like family again. Rest easy. We’ve got it.