Fifteen Years After My Father Changed the Locks, He Seated Me at Table Twenty-Two
“Gerald told Clare you threw the photos away.”
The coffee shop door opened behind me.
A man in a bank tie held it for a woman carrying a cake box.
“Arthur Vance has been in town more than usual,” Sarah said.
“David’s father.
I saw his car at the bank twice last week.”
“David Vance.”
“He’s been quiet.
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