We were risking everything on a patch of frozen Nebraska soil.

I hoisted the white square high in the air, refusing to let him buy my home.

“Eighty thousand,” Denny said, aiming the gavel at me.

“Do we have eighty-five?”

The land rep finally looked up from his screen.

He studied me for two full seconds.

He tilted his head slightly to the left, as if trying to work out why a dental hygienist was being so stubborn.

“We have two hundred eighty-five thousand,” Denny said.