Martha took a little sip of her tea and set the cup back in its saucer without a sound.

“Your father knows about locks, Eleanor.

Let him help.”

At half past eleven the front door latch clicked shut, and heavy boots rang out in the main hallway.

Julian came into the living room holding a slim blue paper envelope.

Arthur followed close behind with a crisp white legal pad tucked firmly under his arm.

“Eleanor,” Julian said, his voice sinking into his smooth, polished sales pitch.

“I wanted to clear up any lingering misunderstanding about our arrangement here.”