By ten o’clock Ruth had a covered dish on the counter and Maya on her shoulder.

“She’s got your chin,” Ruth said, “and your grip.

Look at that fist.”

Maya had her left hand curled against her cheek, tight as a knot, the way she did when she had decided the world could wait until morning.

My phone lit up on the arm of the rocker.

Sarah, at that hour, from her car.

“The lien is released,” she said.

“The bank pulled the filing tonight and wrote it off as a forged instrument.