They are a wall, and you carried the bricks yourself, one at a time, each one handed to you with a reason attached, and you thanked him for the reason as you set it in place.

Chapter 3 — The Burden of the Family Name

At ten the front buzzer sounded its sharp double ring, and because Jonathan did not move, I answered it.

Rosalind Duncan stood on the porch with her gray hair perfectly styled against the damp night, her hands tucked into the pockets of a tailored wool coat with silk lapels.

“I saw the lights were still on,” she said, and walked past me into the hallway without waiting to be asked.

She had the finalized response cards from the caterer, she said, though it was ten o’clock at night and she had driven across town to deliver them.