Evelyn called at eight thirty the next morning, before I’d even gotten Bennett’s rain boots onto his feet.

I left Bennett at Grace’s kitchen table with his bowl of Cheerios and walked three blocks to Main Street.

Evelyn’s corner office smelled of old bond paper, radiator steam and cold black coffee.

She sat behind her heavy mahogany desk with a three-page fax spread out between her blotter and her desk lamp.

She removed her half-moon glasses and laid them on top of her leather binder.

“Frank’s lawyer faxed this over at twenty past eight,” Evelyn said.