He had on his navy rain jacket and a slim leather folder under his arm.

“I stopped by the library this afternoon,” I said, leaning on the wooden porch railing out of the wet wind.

Evan put his folder down on the little wicker table between the porch chairs.

“Did Clara ask about me at all?” he asked.

“She had the Class of 2014 directories on the front counter,” I said.

“Your name isn’t in the booklet.”

Evan reached down with his right hand and fiddled with his silver wristwatch, turning the metal case twice around his left wrist until the band sat straight.