The doorbell drilled the foyer like a fire alarm.
Jasper glanced at the clock—8:02 a.m.—and frowned. “Who—"
Fiona, in a robe with tiny pink flowers, pressed a cold pack to her cheek and peered through the sidelight. “Men," she said, small. “With… dollies?"
The bell rang again, longer. Jasper yanked the door open.
Three movers stood on the stoop in uniforms the color of wet pavement. Behind them, a box truck idled, hazard lights blinking like a metronome. The man in front consulted a clipboard.
“Morning. RiverPoint Relocation," he said. “We're here for a pick-up under 'Caroline Hale.'"
Jasper's mouth thinned. “You're not."
The mover glanced at the clipboard again, unbothered. “Address matches. Authorization signed. Inventory attached."
Fiona tightened the ice against her cheek. “The
