“No,” Pete said.

“He said you’d be handling your own expenses from here on out.”

“I see,” Caroline said softly.

She adjusted the silver chain around her neck, turned toward the glass front door, and walked out into the chilly harbor air.

By one o’clock, the damp sea fog had settled into a steady gray drizzle that slicked the brick sidewalks along Westminster Street.

Caroline climbed the wide marble stairs of the legal building at one-fifteen, holding an accordion file against the front of her damp coat.