It did not mention the transfers, the three years, the eighty-five thousand eight hundred dollars, the two place settings no one had sat in.

It said that she had tried to call, that she thought we needed to talk about what had happened, that she did not understand why I had chosen to make a private arrangement into a family matter.

Further down, she asked me to reconsider the cutoff and to call her before I made any permanent decisions.

And at the place in the letter where her request became a demand, she had pressed the paper into a small hard crease with her thumb, the same crease she folded into a napkin, so that even on paper, even from another room, I could see exactly where the conversation had become uncomfortable for her and watch her smooth it flat.

Does she want me to start paying again, I asked Marcus, who had read it over my shoulder.