At six fifteen, Lorraine was in the kitchen making tea when I sat on the floor with a screwdriver and the loose cabinet hinge.
She slid a cup toward the edge of the counter.
“You always did fix things before asking whether they needed fixing.”
“The hinge was loose.”
“So you noticed.”
I tightened the first screw.
Lorraine opened the tea tin.
“Did Caroline contact you?”
I kept the screwdriver against the hinge.
“Why?”
“She was Hannah’s friend. I assumed she might call.”
“She did.”
Lorraine’s hand stopped over the tin.
“What did she want?”
“She asked about Hannah’s records.”
Lorraine smoothed the same cuff of her blouse.
“Records are being handled.”
“By whom?”
“By the hospital.”
“The hospital says some records are missing.”
She put a tea bag into the cup.
“Missing is a strong word.”
“Then what word would you use?”
She poured the hot water and watched the color spread.
