“The commissioner officially voided the quitclaim deed draft Bob kept in his desk drawer.”

Uncle John laid his shaky hands flat on his knees and looked down at the stone path.

“He came into my apartment four years back, before they moved me in here,” Uncle John said in his scratchy voice.

“He went through my bureau drawers while I sat there in my armchair.”

He reached into his sweater pocket and drew out a heavy round piece of polished metal on a silver chain.

“He told me he was taking it into town to a jeweler to be cleaned,” Uncle John said, pausing a long while between the words.