I prepared myself for round two of questioning from my mother. Predictably, she was ready to roll the very moment I was over the threshold. “Please tell me she’s still downstairs?” she asked, and I nodded affirmation. “Yes. She’s still downstairs.” “Good,” she said. “Don’t you dare give up on that sweet little thing, Logan. I’ll be turning in my grave if you give up on that little darling.”
