“My office?” I asked.

“What’s she doing in my office?”

“She put your drafting lamp on the floor,” Sadie said.

“She set the gray boxes on top of your desk, and Dad told her to lock the top drawer.”

Sadie was nine, but she never made things up about what went on in the house.

“Did your father tell her to move my files?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Sadie said.