At seven the next morning, my sister Sarah came into the kitchen with two paper sacks of groceries.

She put them on the counter, picked up the glass pot, and poured coffee into three ceramic mugs without even taking off her coat.

Coffee sloshed over the lip of the second mug and puddled on the counter.

“Mark phoned me at six,” Sarah said, setting the pot back on the warmer.

“He said she had some man walking through the yard yesterday.”

I took the blue envelope out of my flannel shirt pocket and laid it flat on the wooden table between us.