“Remember that night we stayed at the inn in Mystic after the ceremony?” Grant asked, his voice soft with a gentle, nostalgic lilt.

“We were a good team before all these accountants and lawyers got into it.”

He pointed at the pink bag sitting on the boards.

“I put Sophie’s school art folder in there, along with the settlement draft Richard Hale’s courier dropped off at my office at noon.”

I picked the heavy duffel up by its canvas strap.

“Thanks for bringing her clothes back clean, Grant.”

Grant stepped down onto the top brick step, straightening his jacket sleeve.