“Nothing does.”

She stepped out onto the porch boards and let the light screen door swing shut behind her heel.

She didn’t hand me the baby, and she didn’t come any closer than three feet.

She reached out one pale hand and touched the top page of the annulled decree, tracing the dark ink of the judge’s signature with her fingers.

“What happens to the house?” she asked quietly.

“It goes on the market Monday,” I said.