Gary’s law office smelled of dust and damp paper.

The dark green plastic blinds were pulled tight against the sun, casting long, thin shadows across the cracked leather armchairs.

Gary set his coffee mug down on top of a manila folder, where the corner of my old lake lot sale document stuck out past the edge.

“A full title search on four twelve Birch Street takes three business days,” Gary said.

He cleared his throat loudly, and the heavy sound echoed off the metal filing cabinets.