That night I opened my father’s old ledger.

On the inside cover he had written three words: Ask for proof.

I traced them with my fingertip.

Those words were not a guarantee that every question would have a satisfying answer.

They were a way to keep from surrendering judgment to the loudest person in the room.

PART 19: THE HEARING

The temporary protective-order hearing took place in a courtroom that smelled of polished wood and stale paper.

Preston sat across the aisle wearing a gray suit, looking as immaculate as he had on our wedding day.