A young clerk in a yellow blouse sat behind the heavy glass counter, sorting a pile of blue folders.

“Mr.

Sullivan,” she said.

“We’ve got the fifteen vehicle titles and the property deeds laid out for transfer.”

I sat at the wooden table and took the cap off my black fountain pen.

“Read the summary on top first, Garrett,” Dale said, leaning on the wooden counter next to me.

“I know what’s in it,” I said.

“It takes away every share you own,” Dale said.