January 2, 1997

I had some business with Mrs. Mallory. We went to this bank in downtown San Francisco, meeting with the manager about her safety deposit bank.

"There's something I've wanted to tell Quinn," she had said to me before we went. "But I might not be here if he makes it back."

"You must have hope, Mrs. Mallory," I said.

"I want to be the one to greet my son when he returns," she replied. "If not, I'm leaving a letter and putting in my safety deposit box. I want to sign paperwork to hand the box over to you in the event of my death."

"I suppose what is in the letter is something you believe Quinn should hear from you should you be able to welcome him home."

"Yes, but I want to make sure he gets the message, whether or not I can be here to greet him."

"I will be your backup, Mrs. Mallory," I said.

Later that day, I finished grading all of the exams.