Boston Real Estate, a Greenwich Mansion, and Five Attorneys
He picked up his sandwich and didn’t take a bite.
“Your mother is measuring windows, and your brother is mopping water off a folder.
They’re not just sitting around.”
“No,” I said.
“They aren’t.”
His phone buzzed on the desk, and he checked it, then laid it face down, the way Julian had.
“The office?” I asked.
“Your clearance renewal packet.