“Don’t open it where she can see.

She goes through my purse.”

Her hand went into my coat pocket, quick, the way you drop a receipt in a bin, and then she was walking back past the chapel door without looking up once.

Evelyn came over, drying her fingers on a paper towel.

“Was that Caroline?”

“Passing through.”

“She worries.

She was always the one who worried.” Evelyn folded the towel into a small square and set it on the handrail.