Her head snapped up. When she saw Ava — and what Ava was holding — something hard and frightened crossed her face.
"Ava! Come back here!"
Ava shrank against Thomas's leg but did not surrender the envelope.
"Give me that."
Monique rose. Her eyes were red-rimmed; her voice had the frayed edge of someone who has been crying alone in a room for longer than dignity allows. She reached for the letter. Ava twisted away and held it up toward Thomas as if it were evidence in a trial only she understood.
Thomas took it without thinking. Habit. Helpfulness. The long practice of being the neighbor who showed up.
The envelope was addressed, in careful blue ink, to him.
To Thomas Grant.