Mr. Gable took two green ledger sheets out of his drawer and laid them side by side on his oak desk.

My thumb was black with grease from working on the mower deck at six that morning. I wiped both palms down the front of my jeans before I touched his pen.

“Line twenty-four, Fay,” Mr. Gable said.

He was fifty-five and wore a gray wool suit that looked as if it were pressed every morning.

He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up by the bridge with his middle finger.

“Initial the left margin first, then sign your full legal name.”

I signed Fay Marie Miller on the bottom line.

The white paper was thick and smooth under my palm.

“That officially completes the transfer of the eighty acres to Oakridge Development Corporation,” he said.

He checked the small battery clock on his filing cabinet.

“It’s nine-fourteen in the morning.”

“Did the wire clear?” I asked.

“The initial deposit reached escrow at eight forty-five,” Mr.

Gable said.

“Thirty-nine million dollars, minus forty-two thousand six hundred and twelve dollars and forty cents in state filing fees and legal recording costs.”