“That you had, and that it was none of his business what.”

“You don’t want to hear the rest,” she said.

“I want to finish my dinner.”

On Christmas Eve I made the same dinner, because Helen said it was the best meal she had eaten in five years, and I set the table for two.

She brought a pie and cut two slices before she even sat down.

Before I sat down I opened the desk drawer and turned the phone on.

Eight voicemails.