“Somebody’s been in my room,” I said.

Renee didn’t turn around right away.

She slid a bill into the bill slot and tapped her manicured index fingernail twice on the counter tile.

“Daniel needed your original Social Security card and your old house sale record,” she said.

“My box was sealed with tape,” I said.

“We’re consolidating the household files, Margaret,” she said, her voice slipping into the smooth, efficient tone she saved for hospital staff schedules.

“We can’t have stray financial papers lying around in a detached building.”