He went back up the steps, and I asked him to bring down the blue box from the pantry shelf.

He brought it out, set it on the railing, and didn’t ask what was inside.

“One night,” he said.

“Just think about it for one night.”

I drove to Main Street with the crib in the trunk and the box on the seat next to me, and I didn’t go back to the rental.

Arthur’s office smelled like scorched coffee at five o’clock.

He had his yellow legal pad lined up square in front of him and the silver Parker pen standing on its cap.