Frank was waiting in the driveway beside my Buick.

He had brought the photocopy I had left on the dining room table, folded neatly into quarters.

The folded reading glasses case in his other hand struck me as an odd thing to bring outside, but he kept it closed.

“Your mother said you were leaving,” he said.

“I am.”

“We need to settle this before you involve more people.”

“I have already involved Samuel.”