She lifted a pair of drywall trowels wrapped in burlap off the cot and set them beside the bag.

Her hands moved with fast, practiced efficiency, the hands of a worker used to packing up a job site on ten minutes’ notice.

“It’s fine, Mr.

Nathaniel,” Martha said.

“It isn’t fine,” Nathaniel said.

“We were leaving anyway,” Martha said, her voice brisk and defensive.

She reached down to check Daisy’s thin cotton gloves for cold.

“We don’t stay where the law says we can’t be.”