The noon whistle from the county courthouse was still echoing when Tyler walked up my porch steps.

His hands were shoved deep into his khaki pockets, and the rapid, metallic clinking of quarters and dimes started before he even reached the top landing.

“Joan, great to see you,” Tyler said, his words coming out in a fast, practiced rhythm.

“I wanted to touch base on a very exciting development for both of our properties.”

I stood behind the screen door for a second, then pushed it open and stepped out onto the porch.

“What sort of development, Tyler?” I asked.