“Did you stop at the bank before you left the city, Iris?” Eleanor asked.

“Your father wants forty dollars in cash for the bakery rolls and the side dishes from the deli.”

“I took sixty out of the ATM near my apartment,” I said.

“Good girl,” she said.

“And you paid that winter cabin utility charge online last night, didn’t you?”

“I made the electronic payment on Tuesday,” I said.

“It came to ninety-four dollars.”

“You always keep things running so smoothly,” Eleanor said, her voice rising into the sweet, high pitch she used when she dressed up demands as little favors.

“Chelsea is already here.

Her big surprise gift for Christmas morning is sitting right on the front counter, and it’s going to be the star of the whole day.”

“What did she buy?” I asked.

“Oh, I can’t tell you,” Eleanor said, and I could hear her smoothing her cardigan over her chest near the phone.

“Arthur said we aren’t allowed to say a single word until the ribbons come off.”

I pulled into the concrete driveway in Portland at a quarter past four.