I peeled the soft paper off Grandma Ruth’s ceramic mug at the sink and set the mug on the windowsill where the sunlight crossed the counter.

Tucked down inside the cup was a folded five-dollar bill and a slip of paper in her handwriting.

For a rainy day.

There’s always one coming.

Clare didn’t ask to read it.

She tapped her pen twice on the folder.

“Robert’s first court appearance is December third,” she said.

“The Commonwealth is seeking restitution.