Rachel did not pick it up.

She looked at the signature line where Tyler Bennett had already scribbled his name in blue ink.

“Do not sign that, Joan,” she said.

“He said it was just a neighborly gesture to clean up the yard,” I said, choosing my words slowly.

“It is an easement,” Rachel said, her voice flat and measured.

“If you sign this, you are giving him legal permission to keep his cedar fence eight feet inside your property line forever.”

She pulled a fresh manila folder from her drawer and opened it.