I counted four hundred dollars in cash out of my envelope savings and laid the bills flat on his desk.

Howard signed the bottom of the retainer receipt, tucked one copy into his vest pocket, and picked up his leather briefcase.

I drove home to my apartment on Birch Street first to pick up the record folders before I met Howard at the store.

Claire was standing at my kitchen counter, pouring hot water into two ceramic mugs.

She had set out three blue plastic three-ring binders next to a box of clear document sleeves.

“Arlene called me from her car,” Claire said.