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"Why?"

"Because that's where their new jobs are."

He pressed his nose against the glass. "Is that our tree now?"

"It is."

He considered this, “Good. It’s the same as the one at Grandma Sharon’s house. She’ll like it when she comes to visit.”

"I thought so, too."

He moved away from the window and walked slowly toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms, his sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. I followed. He stopped in the doorway of his room, the one we'd picked together because it had the window seat and was closest to the backyard, and stared at the empty space.

"It's really empty," he said.

"Not for long. The movers will be here in about an hour."

He turned and looked up at me. "With my bed?"

"With your bed."

James nodded, reassured, and went back to looking around. He was quiet again in a way that meant he was thinking hard about something.

“What is it?”

“Do we live close to Miss Angel? She’s really pretty. Maybe it would be good if she came over to play with both of us.”

Uh-oh.

“Why both of us?”

“Bubba said you need a girlfriend, and I like Miss Angel.”

Holy shit.

“Uhm, James, I like Miss Angel too, but only as a friend.”

“That’s what I said. She’s a girl and our friend. A girlfriend. She should come over and visit.”

“And Miss Zoe?”

“I guess she could come,” he sighed.

I was going to have to think about this. Luckily the movers arrived forty minutes early, which I appreciated. The moment the big truck backed into the driveway, James transformed from confused matchmaker into the excited little boy I expected. He planted himself on the porch steps and provided a running commentary on every item that came through the front door.

"That's our couch. That's a good couch.

"Those are Dad's book boxes. There's a lot of them.

"That lamp is ugly but Dad likes it."

I made a mental note to donate the lamp.

When the men carried in his dresser he was on his feet. When his bookshelf appeared he started bouncing. But it was the bed, his bed, the one shaped like a race car that he was frankly getting too old for but that I didn't have the heart to replace yet, that did it.

"MY BED!" He shot off the porch steps and danced alongside the two movers as they navigated it through the front door, a one-man parade. "Dad! My bed is here! Can we set it up first? Can we? It has to go in my room, I already picked my room, I'll show you where⁠—"

"James." I put a hand on his shoulder before he could physically steer a grown man down the hallway. "Let them work. You can show them when they're ready."