He’d phone Eleanor.

Eleanor would take her green card out of her floral robe pocket, drive to the neighborhood grocery store, and try to buy her evening tea.

That card would be declined too.

I put both hands on the wheel, drew one long, slow breath of cold air, and slid the red legal folder closer on the passenger seat.

I shut my car door and turned the key in the ignition.

My sedan’s headlights lit up Daniel pacing back and forth on the wet concrete of the driveway, his hands jammed deep in his coat pockets.