Someone had to be here when the furnace man came.

Maybe that was why I noticed the receipt.

It had been under the sugar bowl, the thin white slip from the card payment.

I turned to the kettle for one second.

When I turned back, the slip was gone, and Gemma was already in the hallway with both hands in her coat pockets.

“Fresh legal pad?” she asked, without turning around.

“I want to start the room list.”

“Bottom drawer by the phone,” I said.

She turned the corner quickly, the way people do when they have finished a conversation before you have.

I stood there with the kettle heating and the checkbook open on the counter.

Nothing was wrong.

The house was warm, the refrigerator hummed, and the organic juice boxes were lined up on the door shelf exactly as I had left them.

Still, I put my hand on the checkbook and held it.

By four, Lucas was in the living room with a stack of envelopes and a letter opener.