It was a brief note with Chloe’s dental appointment schedule for November, followed by a polite line asking whether I wanted her to forward my leftover mail from the Scottsdale address.

I had sent back three words.

Arthur handles it.

She never answered, but on Tuesday afternoon a brown legal envelope showed up at Arthur’s office holding my original Buick registration and the spare key from the kitchen drawer.

There was no note in it, just the paper.

I dragged the hose over to the two Double Delight bushes in the middle of the bed.

The pink-rimmed buds were already closed tight against their stems, waiting for the full late-September sun to open them.