“I returned that to you months ago, Claire,” she said. “It was on your kitchen counter the week after we had the furnace serviced.”
“It was not on the counter,” I said.
“Well, you must have misplaced it,” she said, her voice clipped and light. “You have always been so particular about your filing, but sometimes things slip through.”
“The key ring was in my kitchen drawer on Monday,” I said.
She set the flannel cloth down on the polished mahogany table and looked at me, her eyes perfectly calm. “Are you accusing me of taking your house key, Claire?”
“I am trying to find it,” I said.
“I have enough to worry about with Mason’s enrollment deadline next week,” she said, picking up the cloth again. “I do not have time to keep track of your spare hardware.”
I drove back to Bryden Road with my headlights on, the empty spot on my key ring scratching against the steering column.
