Her lawyer had issued a brief public statement claiming she had no knowledge of the compromised bank account, but the court held the jewelry for auction anyway.

At three-fifteen a silver pickup truck pulled into the driveway.

Uncle Raymond stepped out of the truck carrying a wooden bushel basket filled with fresh red apples from his backyard trees.

He walked up the front steps and set the basket down near the porch door.

“I brought these over for you, Elena,” Raymond said, his voice gravelly and quiet.

He rubbed his thumb over the knuckles of his left hand, looking down at his work boots.