"Oh, Lord," Sean mutters to himself, dropping his book to the floor and hauling himself up out of his recliner to go answer the door, but there's a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth even as he complains. Every time he feels like he's gotten used to the idea of a world where nobody cares about him (which, admittedly, has its perks), this place drags him back into somebody's life.

"So," he says, as upbeat as he can manage when he sees just what his daughter is carrying and ushering her inside, "ye remembered."