By noon, my phone rang with an unknown local number, and I answered it and set it on speaker, and Chloe’s voice came pouring out, breathless and cracked from crying.

“Evelyn, please.

Please, you have to call off the District Attorney.

They served us at the hotel this morning, there were papers, please, you have to stop this.” I took a slow sip of my tea.

“Good,” I said.

“That means it’s working.” “They’re talking about felonies, Evelyn!” she sobbed.

“Julian could lose his license!

We don’t have money for a lawyer, we spent everything, we’re on our credit cards, please—” “You didn’t spend your money, Chloe,” I said.