Frank straightened the gold cufflinks on his crisp white shirt and stepped smoothly into the space between me and the open door of the safe.

He smiled with an easy, practiced authority.

“Afternoon, Claire,” Frank said.

His voice was calm and even, built on the smooth rhythm he used at city planning meetings.

“We didn’t mean to scare the boy.

Lauren asked me to give her a hand moving some heavy equipment.”

“Frank’s helping me dig out old tax papers for Mom’s estate audit,” Lauren said, the words spilling out of her in a hurry.

“The state revenue department sent a notice about five years of back filings from before she passed.”