wait at the hospital.”
“When?”
“She said she would tell me.”
I glanced at the folded paper beside her plate.
“What’s that?”
“My parking receipt from yesterday.”
She picked it up and folded it once, then again.
“She told me to keep it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I let that answer stand.
Karen looked down at the paper. “Elena, I think she has an idea in her head about how this is supposed to go.”
“What idea?”
“She has not told me.”
That was the answer I carried home.
At 5:40, Daniel and I sat at the dining room table with our calendars open between us. He circled Friday’s delivery date and then drew another circle around the time printed beneath it.
“Seven thirty,” he said.
“Yes.”
He looked at his phone.
“Vivian asked Karen to wait at the hospital.”
I put my pencil down.
“When?”
“She did not
