"What is happening?" she asked. Linda turned immediately, her practiced composure returning. "Victoria, this man claims to have found your wallet. I was arranging for police to verify his account."
Daniel held up the plastic pouch. "I found it near your office. I thought you should have it back."
Victoria descended the steps. Her gaze found the familiar dark leather through the transparent plastic, then moved to Daniel's face. Something in his posture made her hesitate. He looked tired and damp from the rain, but he did not seem to be asking her for anything.
"May I?" she asked.
He placed it in her hands. She opened the pouch, slipped out the wallet, and checked first for the ring. The blue stone caught the porch light, no brighter than it had ever been, but Victoria closed her fingers around it as though she had found a pulse. The photograph was still folded beneath it. She looked at her mother's smile and felt her throat tighten so suddenly that she had to turn away.
For a few moments nobody spoke. Linda watched Victoria check the identification and cards, then count the cash with an instinct so ingrained she could not entirely suppress it. All the money was there, still in the same folds, including the separate envelope Ethan had prepared for a private art-and-furniture purchase that had been postponed after the signing. Victoria had carried the cash for one afternoon longer than intended because a banker who was supposed to receive it had changed appointments. Now, standing in her own doorway, she felt ridiculous for having cared about the bills at all.
"It's all here," she said quietly. "Every dollar."
Linda opened her mouth, then closed it. Marcus looked toward the ground. Victoria turned back to Daniel and saw sawdust caught in the fabric near his cuff, a thin crescent of damp hair at his forehead, and an expression that suggested he was waiting only to be dismissed.
"You walked here in the rain?"
"Bus most of the way. The last stretch didn't have a convenient stop."
"You could have called the number on the card."
"I considered it. I thought you might need the things inside before anyone from your office could make arrangements."
Victoria glanced down at the ring again. She wanted to explain why it mattered. She wanted to tell him about the afternoon her mother had placed it in her palm and said she hoped Victoria would someday value her own happiness as fiercely as she valued achievement. But the explanation felt too private for the porch, for Linda's watchful eyes, for the guard standing between them and the rain.
"Ethan," she said, turning toward the doorway, "bring me the checkbook from my study."