Wade sat at the far corner table next to the metal filing cabinet, neatly arranging three blue folders under the bright ceiling lights.

“As of Friday afternoon we’ve got seventy-four thousand dollars cleared in the new account,” Wade said, adjusting his silver-framed glasses.

I filled two ceramic mugs with hot coffee and set one next to his laptop.

“And the trust designation?”

“Fully registered as the Margaret Miller Youth Fund,” Wade said, sliding a typed page across the Formica table.

“The county auditor approved the charter without one objection.”

I looked down at the top line, where three names were written in tidy blue ink.