“The bank deadline is November eighteenth,” I said.

“Signing a fake corporate guarantee won’t stop Ridgefield National from foreclosing on twelve defaulted lots.”

Brandon cleared his throat loudly.

“The bank will accept whatever documents we submit tomorrow morning if you sign off on your corporate shares.”

“I’m not signing,” I said.

Brandon turned without another word and went up the staircase, the wooden treads creaking under his work boots.

Victoria reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the brass key fob Walter had carried for twenty years.