My son drained every last dollar from our life savings accounts and disappeared with the woman who helped him do it. I was heartbroken beyond words — until my 13-year-old grandson smiled and said, “Grandma, don’t worry. I’ve handled it.” A few days later, my son called back in a panic…

Craig’s bedroom door stood wide open. He was shoving clothes into his black travel bag with the desperate efficiency of a man fleeing a fire. No folding.

No order. Just shirts, socks, jeans, chargers, and toiletries snatched from drawers and tossed in. His work laptop sat open on the unmade bed, several browser windows glowing across the screen.

The room smelled faintly of stale coffee and the cedar blocks I had placed in his closet every spring, hoping some small domestic ritual might still tether him to the home he seemed to drift farther from every year. “Going somewhere?” I asked from the doorway. Craig didn’t look up.

“Business trip,” he said. “Last-minute thing.”

The lie hung in the air between us like smoke. Craig worked tech support for a local computer repair company on the edge of downtown Springfield.