“It’s just a formal document Vanessa’s lawyer wrote up for us,” my mother said, laying the papers flat between two salt shakers.

“It’s an ordinary family reconciliation agreement.”

She took the glass kettle off the stove and filled it at the tap.

“Vanessa’s lawyer says it’s standard procedure whenever families choose to handle personal matters privately without involving the police,” she said.

“Did Vanessa ask him to draw this up?” I asked.

“Her lawyer suggested it so everybody feels safe going forward,” my mother said, putting the kettle on the burner and clicking the knob on.

She opened my pantry, found two ceramic mugs, and dropped a tea bag into each.