“We need to talk about the church board meeting, Mother,” Graham said, his voice dropping an octave. “Pastor Whitcomb is asking questions.”

“Not now,” Marjorie snapped. “Wait in the library. I will deal with you in a moment.”

Graham stood still for a second too long, his eyes scanning the desk drawers.

I watched his hand twitch toward his coat pocket, where a heavy ring of brass keys jangled softly.

Then, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Marjorie waited until his footsteps faded down the hardwood corridor.

She turned to Julian, her expression hardening.

“Mr. Voss, I require a private word with my daughter-in-law,” Marjorie said.

“I am not leaving my client alone with you, Mrs. Caldwell,” Julian said.

“It is alright, Julian,” I said, touching his sleeve. “Wait just outside the door.”

Julian looked at me, his brow furrowed in concern. “Evelyn, you don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” I said. “But I want to hear what she has to say.”

Julian hesitated, then picked up his briefcase and walked out, closing the heavy oak door behind him.