Martha tucked the stack of papers into her coat pocket and zipped the lining tight.

“I’ll sit in that chair and read every single hour out loud from the log.”

“Get what you need out of your sedan before noon,” Nathaniel said.

“The room is paid through the twentieth, and the desk clerk knows you’re staying.”

Martha touched her daughter’s winter hat on the cushion beside her and checked the child’s small hands for cold.

“Daisy asked me this morning if we’d have a real door with a deadbolt tonight.”