My father loved paper.

He had trusted computers to add numbers but never trusted them to remember why the numbers mattered.

Even after Lawson Holdings expanded from one roadside motel into a respected group of hotels, he kept original vendor contracts in labeled binders.

I had teased him for it.

That day, I was grateful.

In a storage unit Elaine’s office had arranged after his death, I found the founders’ agreement, amendments, minutes and personal letters.

Nothing in those boxes gave me the power to fire my husband on the spot.