So we let Thomas in.
Thomas set the envelope on the coffee table like it might explode.
He sat on our sagging thrift-store chair like he’d sat on worse.
Noah and I took the couch.
My knee pressed against his wheel; his hand found mine and stayed there.
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Thomas set the envelope on the coffee table like it might explode.
« I’m an attorney, » he said. « I represented Mr. Peters. Before he died, he gave me very clear instructions about you. »
Noah opened it with shaking hands.
Noah looked baffled. « But I don’t know him. »
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