The brass handle of the front door clicked, but it was not the courier I expected with the third-quarter tax audits. Evan walked into the entry hall carrying a yellow canvas diaper bag over his shoulder.
Behind him stood Leah Mason, his executive secretary, holding two identical blue infant carriers. Margaret, my mother-in-law, came last, carrying a designer leather handbag and letting the heavy oak door settle into its frame without a sound.
I stood beneath the crystal chandelier, watching them assemble in the quiet space.
