My mother poured hot water into both mugs, set one in front of me, and picked up her own.

“It’s very simple,” my mother said, taking a tiny sip from her mug.

“The minute you sign it, I’ll write the twelve-thousand-dollar check straight to the credit union tomorrow morning.”

“This paper’s been backdated,” I said.

“Lawyers do that all the time for administrative filing,” my mother said, waving her hand lightly.

“It just makes sure the paperwork lines up with the start of the month.”

“It says Vanessa didn’t throw the pan,” I said.