I capped the fountain pen, pressed the cap until it clicked, and pushed the signed release forms back into Daniel’s hands.

“Thank you, Daniel,” I said.

“For everything you did when I called you on Christmas Eve.”

He carefully put the signed pages in his leather briefcase and latched the brass lock.

“Your grandmother knew exactly what she was doing when she drafted that emergency clause,” Daniel said.

“She wanted to make sure you had the leverage to walk away on your own terms.”

The yellow cab dropped me off outside the pediatric clinic on East Seventy-Second Street at twenty past ten.