Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

“The transfer papers will be signed by five tomorrow,” I said. “If Chloe’s name is not on them, Dr. Sullivan will call the prosecutor. Now get out of my kitchen.”

Robert did not look at Donald. He walked toward the back door, his head bowed so low his chin touched his collar. He did not ask for his coat, and he did not say goodbye.

Through the window,continue reading …