“We can get the books and the dishes into my trunk before midnight.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a small stack of manila folders.

“Your mother called the surgical desk three times this afternoon,” Julie said, her voice dropping.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“She asked if you were still scheduled for the late shift on Wednesday,” Julie said.

“She said she had some of your grandmother’s things to drop off.”

I stopped sorting the papers, my fingers resting on a gas bill.