The registration clerk waved a plastic clipboard from the folding table near the barn.

I needed to go over there and hand over the earnest money check right away to make the sale legally binding.

Then I saw him standing at the edge of the driveway.

Walt had his hands buried deep in the pockets of his good church coat.

He was watching us celebrate.

He didn’t look angry about my win.

He looked deeply old and terribly alone.

He had sold this land to fix a mounting personal debt, and he had spent four years believing we had completely moved on.