Nate pushed open the screen door, his jacket zipped to his collar and his hands still pink from scrub soap.

Judy smiled, leaned forward over the wooden step, and pressed a warm, soft kiss to my cheek.

The deputy clerk behind the glass partition had a small brass nameplate that read Mrs.

Gable.

At half past ten on Monday morning, I set the white bank envelope on the marble ledge under the speaking hole.

Inside was the forty-thousand-dollar cashier’s check from our savings account and fifteen hundred dollars in cash.

I took the cash out first, held together with three thick rubber bands from Patty’s diner.