“Grace Caldwell?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

He handed me the basket along with a heavy cream envelope with my name printed across the front in gold ink.

I signed his electronic pad and carried the basket inside to the kitchen counter, where Henry was putting down a box of cereal.

“Is that from the big house in Aspen?” Henry asked.

“It is,” I said.

I tucked the envelope under my arm and peeled back the clear cellophane.