Nobody remembers a woman who is useful. The woman who steps off the four-thirty ferry is carrying a Michigan driver's licence with her own photograph on it and somebody else's name. The licence is real. It was issued correctly, on authentic documents, by a clerk who did her job properly. The name belongs to a woman in Melvindale who has not needed it in a long time. A year ago Nell Drayton had a marriage, a daughter, a mother, a house and a profession. She watched every piece of it cross a table one signed page at a time, and she could not get one person to look at what she was holding. Now she knows how it is done. So she takes a room. She learns the names. She volunteers for the jobs nobody wants - the phone tree, the food shelf, the hall - because that is where a town keeps its keys, and because a woman who says yes is a woman nobody looks at twice. She is very good at it. That is the problem. The second Provenance novel. Book one was about watching it happen. This one is about doing it - and about the woman in Charlevoix who is quietly trying to get her own name back.
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