Page 39 of The Delivery

But when Rebecca peers into the bedroom, Mark is not on his phone anymore. Instead he is leafing through a photo album of Maddy’s birth, which he has pulled off the bookshelf. The photo on the cover is Rebecca way pregnant, hand on her belly, smiling at the iPhone. The iOS photo software selected the best pictures from the avalanche they took in the first months, a one-click companion app outsourced them, and three days later the album showed up, manufactured in Vietnam. The pictures are the best ones, she supposes, but the album itself feels generic, devoid of warmth, stamped out of a mold. She misses the yellowed edges of photographs from her youth, the sticky cellophane that trapped them imperfectly in place against the album pages.

Mark flips through the images of their family’s genesis, his face soft, thoughtful. Affection stirs in Rebecca’s chest as she watches him, a young-feeling love from when they were first dating, first pregnancy, when it was the two of them side by side embarking on their adventure in the world.

The sound of dishes clanking in the kitchen disrupts her reverie. Mark’s head snaps up. The last they checked, Mr. Man was still sealed in his prism, recharging.

Mark takes a breath, nods at her reassuringly.

After Maddy dresses and loads her backpack, the threesome head down the hall, Mark in the lead.

Mr. Man stands over the table, holding a pot of fresh coffee. Scrambled eggs steam on plates. Forks rest on napkins, including Maddy’s with the watermelon handle.

Mark and Rebecca stare at Mr. Man.

He looks innocuous, helpful, the Mr. Man they knew before.

“Would you like coffee?” Mr. Man says. “Kenyan blend?”

Mark says, “Sure.”

Mr. Man pours two cups.

Rebecca and Mark are still standing across the room, Maddy behind them, chewing on a backpack strap. Over on the kitchen desk, the titanium business card winks in the morning sun.

The toaster pops, and Rebecca, on edge, gives a little yelp.

Mr. Man retrieves the toast with bare fingers, resilient to the heat, and lays a slice on each plate. That breaks the spell.

As Mark and Rebecca sit, Maddy dashes over to the rabbit cage. “Morning, Bao-Bao!”

She unlatches the cage and gathers the bunny into her arms, stroking his neck.

Rebecca says, “Mr. Man, why don’t you rake the pine needles in the front yard?”

Mr. Man gives a tidy little bow and exits through the garage, where the gardening tools are kept.

Mark sets his iPhone on the table, presses to dial, hits Speaker.

“Mommy,” Maddy says.

Rebecca hushes her, points to Mark’s phone. The speaker announces ringing on the other end of the call.

Derek answers by saying, “Tell me you updated the readability enhancements on the bot modules.”

“I have,” Mark says in a strained voice. “But I’ll have to send them from home.”

“Why’s that?” Derek makes no effort to disguise his aggravation.

“I have strep,” Mark lies.

“Strep,” Derek says suspiciously.

Maddy is regarding “Bao-Bao” differently. “Mommy,” she says in a strained whisper.

Rebecca puts a hush finger to her lips.

“Yeah,” Mark says. “It’s going around Maddy’s school.”

“Kids are petri dishes,” Derek says. “Send the update. And get antibiotics or whatever. I need you back here ASAP.”