He looked at the bag.

“It’s a pastry and four hundred dollars, and it took me thirteen years.”

He sat back against the bench.

“Vanessa’s been on the phone with the registration office since June.

She handles all of that.

She’d tell you I’m not much use at it.”

Claire folded the check along its crease and held it in her fist.

“It’s decent of you to come out,” he said.