“Mariana!” Teresa screamed, her voice muffled into a high rasp behind the triple-layer glass.

“Mariana, help me!”

Mariana picked up the pen on the counter, signed her full name across the bottom line of the protective order, and turned her back on the window as Teresa kept crying her name from the transfer line.

I grabbed the rear aluminum handle of the white chest freezer while Robert Vance took the front corners.

“Lift on three,” Robert said, planting his heavy work boots on the oil stain near the garage floor drain.

We grunted together, hoisted the heavy box off the concrete slab, and carried it out through the wide roll-up door into the bright morning heat.