Chapter 6: Item in the Middle

Preston stood in Nan's living room with rain running off his coat onto her rug.

The cardboard box sat at his feet, and the top flap had split.

I looked inside.

He had packed one slipper, three hangers, my laptop charger, a toaster and a framed photo of us in Maine.

"I didn't know what you'd want," he said.

"I don't want the toaster."

"It's a good toaster."

Nan, in the kitchen doorway, made a noise and went back in.

"Lyd." He took a breath. "I read your text on Friday. The one about the cards. I've read it two hundred times."

"You answered it in under a minute."

"I know what I wrote."

He said it out loud, slowly.

"'Sort it out yourself.' You were sitting alone in a room, and I wrote that and went back to my toast."

He had remembered the exact words, and that surprised me.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I'll have Gwen unfreeze everything tonight. Come home. It was a mistake on the family office side, that's all."

"Gwen," I said.

"She's already offered. She cried on the phone."

"I'm sure."

I took my phone out of my pocket and held it up to him.

"Watch this."

He frowned, and he took it.

I stood beside him while the busboy's hallway video played, with the clock in the corner at 7:31 and the manager's back to us.

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