Christopher sat down across from me and pushed one of the teacups across the polished table.

“I had the kitchen staff brew some fresh chamomile,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr.

Winslow,” I said.

He reached up with his left hand and adjusted his gold cufflink twice before resting his arms on his knees.

“Let’s put our past disagreements behind us for my uncle’s sake,” Christopher said.

I squeezed my left wrist under the blue baby blanket.

Christopher reached into his coat pocket and took out a heavy object wrapped in white paper.