“Expecting who?” Mark asked, reaching for my elbow.

“If you invited a home care aide here without asking me first, you can send them right back down the driveway.”

At the front door, I ignored his hand, turned the brass deadbolt, and pulled the heavy paneled door open against the cold morning air.

David stepped inside first, wearing a dark wool suit with a thin blue tie, his silver wire-framed glasses catching the bright winter sun coming off the wet driveway.

Behind him came Arthur, clutching a heavy black leather briefcase under his arm, and Rachel, carrying her dark winter coat over one shoulder with her press credential folder in her hand.