He reached for the plastic wand next to the window, twisted it with one firm turn, and shut the aluminum blinds, hiding the office from view.

“Is Ethan out waiting in the car?” I asked Arthur.

“He’s sitting in my station wagon around the corner,” Arthur said.

“He wanted to know if we were going straight to the cottage.”

“We’re going home now,” I said.

I turned around on the sidewalk and gazed back down Elm Avenue toward the courthouse square.

Evelyn was still standing beside the granite pillar at the top of the steps, pulling her silk scarf tight against the damp autumn wind.

Her eyes were locked on the little white card with the post office box address lying in her open palm.