Julian’s ankle was pressed against it.

He slid a folded sheet off the blotter, creased it smaller, and tucked it into his jacket pocket in a single motion, the way a man does something he has practiced.

“What was that you just took?”

“Nothing.

An old appraisal.

He saved everything.”

He checked his phone, thumbed the screen dark, and checked it again.

“I’ve got an investor coming in from Providence,” he said.