Chapter 11: The Loop

Hattie's POV

Gus told me about the hinge in the kitchen at noon, standing very straight.

"You followed my best friend with a hinge," I said.

"I followed my wife's signature with a hinge."

"That isn't how that sentence works."

"It's the only way I could get up the stairs."

He put his phone on the table and turned it toward me.

It was a photograph of a page. At the bottom, on the line marked Petitioner, was a signature.

Hattie Vikstrom Brannigan. Flat, quick and loopless.

"That's not mine," I said.

"I know."

"I sign with a loop. I've signed with a loop since seventh grade."

"I know. That's why I took the picture."

I should have been furious at Selena. I should have been up and out the door.

What I felt, mostly, was a cold, specific embarrassment, because I had spent a week believing the man in front of me was a criminal.

I wrote in my notebook: Gus: 1 photograph.

Then I put the pen down.

"Where are the checks?" I said.

"In the store."

"Take me."

The store was closed for Saturday lunch. Dot let us in the back and flipped the sign.

She set the shoebox on the paint counter and took the rubber band off with a snap.

"Whatever this is," Dot said, "I'm in."

"You don't know what this is."

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