“The house is yours now,” Evelyn said softly.

“The paper trail is clean.”

Gravel crunched under heavy footsteps coming around the side of the garage.

Rachel Kim walked into the backyard with her black leather document portfolio under her arm.

Mark walked three steps behind her, his dark wool coat buttoned up to the collar and his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

He stopped near the bottom of the wooden porch steps, keeping his eyes on the gravel under his shoes.

Rachel opened the flap of her portfolio, took out a small brown manila envelope, and held her hand out toward Mark.