“I don’t remember the name,” Victoria said, stepping back into the shadow of the front hall.

“It was pouring rain, and Julian dealt with the front desk.”

“Let me see her for twenty seconds, Victoria,” I said.

“Just long enough to feel her forehead.”

“If you open that screen door, Brenda, you’ll wake her up and set back her recovery,” Victoria said.

She drew the heavy inner door closed until the brass latch clicked home.

At two o’clock, I met Arthur Pendelton in the drafty hallway of the town clerk’s office.

Arthur was sixty-five, had handled my late husband’s business affairs for thirty years, and carried a quiet authority that usually calmed any room he walked into.