“Handing them out. What she would say. Whether she would explain.” Rosa’s voice was very level. “She practiced not explaining. That was the hard part for her.

She said if she explained it, it would be a gift with instructions, and everyone would do the right thing for the wrong reason, and she would never know.”

“Rosa, she—”

“I said to her, Mrs. Whitaker, you could just change the paper. Your lawyer can change the paper and nobody has to sit at a table.” Rosa nodded slowly, remembering.

“And she said, I need to watch them do it, Rosa. Or I will spend the rest of my life wondering if I was wrong about them.”

Six weeks. A drawer. Rehearsal.