I had assumed, if I am honest, that they would turn out to be some administrative tangle, some fee or vendor I’d forgotten authorizing.

It had not occurred to me that the company draining my grandmother’s trust and the company paying for my ex-husband’s wedding could be the same company.

Now here they were, the two facts, sitting side by side on my phone screen at seven in the morning.

And Damon, in his arrogance, had just mailed that connection — printed, in writing, in the fine print of two hundred invitations — to everyone in his world who might one day be asked to recognize it.

I have thought many times since about the fine print, and about my grandmother, who is the reason I read it.