She set a brown paper grocery bag on the kitchen counter beside a fresh loaf of sourdough bread.

“You’re leaving this Saturday morning,” Lynn said, placing a square paper airline folder on the coffee table beside the ceramic salt shaker.

“I can’t go anywhere, Lynn.

I just agreed to spend three afternoons a week indexing land files for Marcus Vance.”

Lynn unpacked two cartons of organic milk into my refrigerator and stepped into the kitchen doorway.

“I spoke to Marcus forty minutes ago,” Lynn said.

“I’m doing his back room filing on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons until you get back.”