Samuel Reed Kept an Old Wooden Bat Behind the Pantry Door for Twenty Years
Claire said “I’m sorry” to the folder.
Evelyn put the highlighter down.
“You’re not the one who should be sorry.”
She slid a page across the table.
“Fill this out before Friday.
The registry needs an address where you can receive mail away from Oak Ridge Drive.”
Claire wrote my farm address in small letters.
Evelyn watched her pen.