“Is eleven hundred dollars enough to settle your affairs?” he asked softly.

“Sell the silver,” Caroline said, sliding the entire set to his side of the felt tray.

“These children will never owe that man a single cent.”

Mr.

Henderson counted eleven cashier’s vouchers onto the counter and pushed them across the glass toward her.

“Do you need an itemized tax voucher for the sale?” he asked.

“I need the cash portion right now,” Caroline said.

The Seabrook Living studio on Mill Street smelled of damp pine boards and drafting ink when Caroline opened the door at half past three.