“I need time,” I said.

“We don’t have time,” Harold said. “The bank is calling the loan on Friday.”

“Today is Tuesday,” I said. “Give me until tomorrow morning.”

Harold looked at the phone, then back at me.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said. “Nine o’clock. I’ll come back.”

“I’ll be here,” I said.

“I’m hanging up now,” Kelsey whispered. “Please, Meredith. Do the right thing.”

The line went dead.

I set my phone on the counter.

Harold stood by the door, his hand resting on the brass knob.

“Think about your mother, too,” Harold said. “She’s sick with worry over this.”

“She always is,” I said.

Harold opened the door.

The cold wind swept inside again, blowing a stray leaf across the rug.

He stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him.

I locked the deadbolt.

I stood in the silence of the kitchen for a long time.

My heart was beating fast.

I looked at the brown envelope lying on the table.

The red string was wound tight around the cardboard button.

I walked over and sat down in the wooden chair.