I stared at her.

“You just accused my eleven-year-old son of stealing from you. I think that makes it very much my concern.”

She reached forward and snatched the watch from my hand.

Then she hurriedly gathered the scattered items and stuffed them back into the yellow bag.

“I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“Ivy, wait!”

But she was already walking toward her house.

Within seconds, her front door slammed shut.

Joel stood beside me looking frightened.

“Mom, am I in trouble?”

I turned toward him.

“No, sweetheart.”

I pulled him into a hug.

He hesitated.

“Was that Dad’s watch?”

I closed my eyes.

“Yes.”

“Why did Mrs. Ivy have it?”

I stared at the closed door three houses away.

**“That’s exactly what I’m going to find out.”**

That evening, Joel sat at our kitchen table cutting cardboard into small shapes.

He was working on another project.