it say?”
“I need to read it first.”
I put the blue folder beside the silver key.
Then I moved both away from the edge of the table.
Daniel looked at the folder again.
“Why would she bring you paperwork?”
“I do not know yet.”
He reached toward it.
I put my hand over the cover.
“Not here.”
He withdrew his hand.
For the first time that day, neither of us tried to make Vivian’s request sound ordinary.
At three fifteen the next afternoon, Daniel loaded two empty car seats into the Buick while I stood beside the open trunk with the blue folder inside a plain envelope.
The Buick had 190,000 miles on it, and Daniel still checked the tire pressure before every hospital trip.
“Take a picture of the folder cover,” I said.
He looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because I want a record of what she gave
