She labeled it without making a ceremony of it and left it on the kitchen shelf.

“There’s a peculiar comfort in knowing where the receipts are,” she said.

It became a joke in our house.

Whenever a letter arrived, I’d call, “The official family folder awaits.”

Jenna would roll her eyes, but she sometimes laughed.

Later I noticed she’d placed a small photograph of Wesley inside the front cover.

It was the one where he was studying the ceiling fan with an expression of deep suspicion.

“Why there?” I asked.