For me.

And I sat in the dark and repeated five words to myself, over and over, like a prayer or a warning: If Shirley makes her move.

I did not have to wait long.

She made it the very next morning, at nine o’clock sharp.

Chapter 17 — Nine O’Clock Sharp

She arrived on my doorstep at precisely nine, a leather folder tucked under her arm, wearing her warmest and most sympathetic smile.

“I know this is the very last thing you want to deal with right now, Frances,” she said sweetly, laying her coat over the back of a chair as though she lived there.