Julian Mercer stood in my sister's doorway and looked smaller than he had ever looked.
He still had the coat, the dark blue one with the collar that turned up, and his hair was wet from the rain that had started somewhere between my phone call and my reading of the journal. He looked, for the first time since I had known him, tired.
"You can come in," Maya said, "but you get five minutes."
He came in and stood in the middle of the kitchen, and he didn't sit down, and he didn't look at the tea.
"The severance isn't the whole offer," he said.
I waited.
"My father wants you to sign a non-disparagement. It's in the standard package. You sign, you get eighteen months instead of six. You sign, and you don't talk about the account, and you don't talk about me, and you don't talk about Corin
