The top envelope had the heavy black return address of Frank’s law office downtown.

Inside were twenty-two pages of the certified final divorce decree, stamped in red ink by the Cook County magistrate, along with the signed quitclaim deed for the Maple Street house.

Beneath it was a thin card postmarked Oak Park, written in blue ink on Eleanor’s floral stationery.

She had written five short lines asking whether I could wire her eight hundred dollars for the winter heating oil contract, now that Daniel had taken an hourly counter job at the neighborhood auto parts store.

I didn’t read the second page of her card.