Chapter 8: The Retractions text
By late afternoon the calls began to arrive—not to Vanessa or Grant, but to Dad. Harold phoned from the airport in Arizona to confirm he had already contacted the funeral home and the two local people who had heard the story secondhand. The bank officer called to apologize for even entertaining the earlier inquiry. The locksmith left a message swearing the work order had been cancelled before anyone touched a cylinder. Dad listened to each update, made a single mark beside the corresponding name on the list, and said little. I watched the marks accumulate. By six o’clock every entry had been accounted for.
He folded the signed sheet and placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket.
“They moved quickly when they thought I was gone,” he said. “They can move just as quickly to correct it.”
