“Come on into the kitchen,” I said.

I went past Mark and through the swinging wooden door, letting the brass hinges settle quietly behind me.

The old refrigerator hummed loudly from the corner by the back counter.

I opened the top drawer next to the silverware tray and laid the blue envelope flat beneath the wire butter knives.

The kitchen door swung open behind me with a dry scrape across the rug.

Vanessa came in, her high heels dragging on the yellow linoleum in an uneven rhythm.