We walked past the fountain.

The travertine floor was polished so clean I could see our reflection, her wrapped in my jacket, me holding her elbow.

At the service door, a young valet held the glass open.

Evelyn stopped.

“Wait,” she said.

She reached into my coat pocket and took out the hairpiece.

She turned it over in her hands.

“It cost six thousand eight hundred dollars,” she said.