I flipped the first one over.

The endorsement on the back was blue ballpoint, slanted hard to the left, Ray Whitfield scrawled fast by a man sitting in a truck.

“I was living in Diane’s spare room when he signed this,” I said.

“I know what year you moved in with her.

I worked it out on the back of a receipt.”

“You worked it out.”

“Someone in this family had to.” She turned her coffee cup a quarter turn without drinking.