A week after Elena left, I’d found a pale yellow envelope in my office wastebasket, torn neatly into pieces.

My executive assistant had said it was a duplicate shipping notice.

At the time, the explanation was barely worth remembering.

It bothered me now because Elena had used pale stationery for notes that mattered.

Willa’s voice brought me back.

“You stopped listening.”

“Sorry.

I was remembering somebody.”