careful on the gravel, then stopped close enough that she could see the county courthouse parking sticker on the windshield.
The passenger window lowered.
Mary Caldwell leaned toward it, silver hair tucked behind one ear, her expression calm in the way of a woman who had spent thirty years watching families show their worst selves around money and death.
She looked first at Margaret’s shoes.
Then at the suitcase.
Then at the bend where Daniel’s SUV had vanished.
Finally, she looked into Margaret’s face.
Mary did not ask if Margaret
