“He left a folder,” she said, and licked her spoon.

“In the car.

He told me to tell you to go over it with your lawyer.”

“Those were his words.”

“He said you’d take it better coming from me.” She dropped the spoon in the sink, ran water over it, and let the water run half a second too long.

I reached past her and shut off the faucet.

At four she gathered up her purse and keys.

In the driveway, past the boxwoods, she hugged me, something she hadn’t done in a long time, and her shoulders felt as thin as a girl’s.