She figured a twelve-year-old girl and a worn-out furniture repairman would fold the minute she turned up in a fancy coat.

I pressed the edges of the blue envelope flat under my palm.

I slipped the crisp blue envelope into my thick jacket pocket.

I zipped my coat up to my chin and went back through the side door into the kitchen.

The house smelled of roast beef and green beans, the same meal Sarah and I made every year for Lily’s birthday dinner.

Vanessa sat at the head of the oak dining table, right where I usually ate breakfast before heading out to the shop.