“I know.”

“I didn’t see it.” She left the door open a foot when she went out.

“Your mother brought a check today,” I told Rosalie.

“I haven’t cashed it.”

Then I took the envelope out of my coat.

Plain white, no name on it, the flap licked shut and pressed down with a thumb.

Inside were three photocopies folded in thirds.

A ledger, ruled by hand with a straightedge.