“Just go get the bank paper out of your car so I can run it over to Donald.”

“I left my purse on the front seat,” I said, turning for the hallway.

“I’ll go grab it.”

“Bring it straight back,” Bob said, trailing me two steps into the hallway.

“Donald shuts his window at four thirty sharp.”

I went out to my Buick, unlocked the driver’s door, and sat behind the wheel without starting the car.

The white envelope holding the bank papers lay untouched on the passenger seat where I’d put it an hour earlier.

I didn’t sign page two.