Sloan was sitting on a barstool near the refrigerator, holding a long, thin white box tied with dark red ribbon.

“Did she give it to you?” Sloan whispered, leaning across the counter.

“She says it’s down in the basement storage bins,” Mark said, setting the wine bottle down.

“I’ll go through them in the morning before I head into the office.”

“She shouldn’t even be out here in the kitchen at dinnertime anyway,” Sloan muttered, setting her glass down hard.

“Every time she wanders through while I’m opening packages, she sits there staring at the bags.”