I lifted the heavy basket by its thick woven handles.

The glass jars of imported jam clanked loudly against one another.

“She said they’d qualify under the Article Seven primary residence rules,” I said.

Margaret stopped drumming her fingers on her purse.

She stared at me without saying a word.

“She quoted the trust papers,” Margaret said.

“She quoted the exact name of the hidden clause,” I said.

Margaret looked down the hall toward the closed door of my study.