“Where are my keys, Annie?” she asked, her voice dropping an octave.

I did not answer her.

I kept my hands buried deep in the pockets of my oversized linen apron.

My right hand wrapped around the cold, sharp edges of three separate metal rings.

The brass of Juliette’s heavy key ring pressed hard into my palm.

Beside it was Sarah’s silver key chain, and the plastic fob for the rental SUV their cousin had driven up from the city.

I did not let them jingle.

“Dan, did you take my keys?” Juliette demanded, turning on her son.

Dan did not look up from the phone screen.

“This deposit slip is from the estate account,” Dan said, his voice flat and hollow.

“It was cleared yesterday at nine in the morning.”

“The day before we all drove out here.”

Juliette stepped away from the peg board, her face pale under her heavy makeup.

The summer heat made the sweat run in thin tracks down her neck, leaving lines in her powder.

“I don’t know anything about that,” she said, her voice rising.