At two that afternoon I found Evelyn in the sitting room, her phone face up on the armrest.

She had her blue silk scarf gathered at her throat.

“Samantha sent a message,” she said.

I sat on the ottoman across from her.

“Read it to me.”

She didn’t pick up the phone.

“She says we’re not to join the Kingsley table for Thanksgiving or Christmas.

She used the word toxic.”