“This isn’t a house payment,” I said.

“This came from Brenda’s office.”

Caroline examined her left index fingernail, picking at a little edge of clear polish before stepping back onto the runner in the entryway.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Caroline asked.

My mother didn’t move her hands to take the envelope.

“The compliance panel closed the investigation at eleven o’clock this morning,” I said.

“The report you filed on Christmas Eve has been recorded as a fraudulent submission.”

“We filed a legitimate concern about a child’s home life,” my mother said, her voice climbing into a sharp, stiff tone.