“Morning, Captain,” Vance said, setting his ceramic mug right on the bare walnut finish without a coaster.

Evelyn stood at the gas stove, stirring scrambled eggs in a beat-up Teflon skillet with a metal fork.

“Did the mail carrier drop off any official letters from First National Bank while I was overseas?” I asked, putting my empty water glass on the counter.

“Oh, you know how rural mail is in Oak Ridge,” Evelyn said, touching her pearl necklace with her thumb before turning back to the stove.

“Half of it gets held up at the main sorting center downtown.”