Later in the afternoon, I was sitting in my office trying to make sense of the bills that my caretaker and former chef used to deal with before they set off for Chicago. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jessica and Moona seated at the dining room table. They weren’t eating. Moona had a thin packet of papers in front of her that she was studying. Jessica was across from her with her little two-in-one, now in laptop mode, prompting Maimoona with questions, and occasionally typing notes. Jessica’s jaw seemed to be dropping lower by the minute.
I looked in Jessica’s direction and met her gaze. Jessica excused herself and walked over, closing the door just enough to stop our voices from carrying.
“What can I do for you, Jessica?”
“Did you know, Miss Baxter?”
“Know what?” I played coy, even
