I felt something go cold and clear in me, like water settling after a storm.
I stepped between them.
“Take your hand off her.”
Ashley laughed.
She did not let go.
“Michael, don’t be dramatic. I’m being generous. Tell her.”
“Tell her what you stand to lose.”
Pike moved to the bottom of the steps, quietly, shoulders squared, between us and the road.
Emily opened her hand.
The twenty fluttered down and landed on the porch boards between our feet.
It lay there, damp-green in the yellow light, like a small, ugly flag.
“I didn’t sign that,” Emily said.
Her voice was low and clear.
“I don’t remember signing anything.”
Ashley turned to look at her.
For the first time all night, something flickered behind her face.
Then it smoothed over, the way ice smooths over a pond.
“Sweetheart,” she said, gently, “you were very tired.”
