The silence in the kitchen was thick enough to choke on.

Then, the landline phone on the wall began to ring.

It was the old rotary phone I kept for emergencies.

Its shrill bell pierced the quiet of the room.

I walked over and picked up the heavy black receiver.

“Hello?” I said.

A man’s voice on the other end spoke quickly, his tone official.

“Is this the residence of Caroline Harper?” the man asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“This is Deputy Vance with the City of Richmond Sheriff’s Department.”

“I have a matter of immediate legal service regarding Thomas Harper.”

I held the receiver tight against my ear.

Thomas watched me, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

“What is the nature of the service, Deputy?” I asked.

“We are attempting to serve a notice of foreclosure and asset seizure,” the deputy said.

I held the black plastic receiver tight against my ear.

The deputy’s voice was crisp and dry through the static of the old line.

“Is Mr. Harper at your residence, ma’am?” the deputy asked.

I looked at Thomas.