“Remember what we practiced,” I said.

“Shoulder-width apart, polite answers, no shouting,” Henry said, holding his ground from his seat.

I picked up my briefcase, opened the driver’s door, and led my four sons up the heated stone steps.

The heavy oak front door swung open before I could reach the brass knocker.

Natalie Vance stood in the warm light of the foyer in a tailored emerald dress and a simple diamond necklace.

“Grace, welcome,” Natalie said, stepping forward with a calm, polite smile.