Robert walked three steps ahead of her, head down, staring at the polished brass trim along the baseboard.

His right hand kept tugging at his gold watch band, pulling the links tight against his wrist.

“Evelyn,” Margaret murmured, stepping into my path as I reached the elevators.

She reached out one hand, her nails painted pale pink, and stopped just short of touching my dark wool sleeve.

“I didn’t know about the option contract with Apex Development,” she said softly.

“Your father told me it was just a civil filing to fix the county tax receipts.”