Alexander Sinclair Came Back to Fairview Hospital to Defend His Injured Wife Against Her Family’s Demands
Rosalie set her bag on the bench by the door.
“He’s old.
Let him be fat.”
On the desk in the front room, I set down the leather-bound ledger and the cleared trust accounting binder.
The court seal was stamped on the first page in blue ink.
I put both in the drawer and closed it.
The drawer stuck halfway, and I pushed it shut with my thumb.
Rosalie stood in the kitchen doorway with the cane hooked over her arm.
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