“I’ll give you a call about the crib,” I said.

Brandon crossed his arms again, the draft agreement still hanging from his fingers.

“The offer runs out on Sunday.”

I walked back to my car with the paper in one hand and the folder in the other.

The house behind me was already beginning to look like something the bank had taken back, its windows flat and black.

I laid the agreement on the passenger seat and fastened my seatbelt.

I needed a lawyer who had known my father, and I knew exactly who I was going to call.