“We aren’t meeting you at the house,” she said.

“Where, then?” Thomas asked. “Just tell me where.”

“The corner table at Hyperion Espresso on William Street,” Caroline said. “In thirty minutes.”

She pressed the button to end the call before he could argue.

The kitchen was quiet again, except for the hum of the refrigerator.

“You don’t trust him,” I said.

“He hasn’t called in sixteen years, Grandma,” Caroline said, pulling her coat off the back of the chair. “Now he is racing down the interstate because Rebecca has a letter.”

We drove down Lafayette Boulevard in silence.

The gray November sky hung low over Fredericksburg, threatening rain.

Hyperion Espresso was crowded with college students from Mary Washington, their laptops open on the small wooden tables.

We took a table near the front window where we could watch the street.

Caroline adjusted her sleeve, tucking the empty right side into her pocket, a habit she had when she was thinking deeply.

Ten minutes later, the brass bell above the door jingled.

Thomas walked in, scanning the room.