I rubbed the smooth oval face of the silver until the dull patches were gone and the shine caught the yellow glow of the porch lamp over the door.

Clara came out through the screen door with a blue folder and a glass of cold water.

“Bob rang the clerk’s desk ten minutes ago,” Clara said.

“He wanted to know if there was any way to settle the property tax balance out of court before tomorrow morning.”

“And what’d you say?” I asked.

“I told him the ledger was locked up for the night,” Clara said.

She sat down on the bench next to me and laid the blue folder over her knees.