We lifted two cardboard boxes out of her trunk and carried them in through the store’s front double doors.

In the boxes were Bob’s framed regional sales awards, his spare store sweaters, and the personal things from his desk that had been packed up under the court order.

The main floor was crowded with afternoon shoppers browsing the tools and paint cans.

Behind the long service counter, the door to the general manager’s office stood wide open.

A young man named Miller, who’d run the lumber counter for three years, came out from behind the counter when he saw us with the boxes.

“Afternoon, Mrs.