“It’s vegetable.”

The front door opened and closed.

I stood in the dining room until the car pulled away.

In the kitchen the tea had gone cold.

The pot sat beside a stack of napkins Courtney had folded into a neat square.

Under the napkins was a single page, turned so the signature line faced up.

I picked up the settlement document.

The title at the top read Waiver of Survivorship Interest.