I walked right past a row of riding mowers and stopped beside the counter.

I took the second copy of the certified revocation notice from my coat pocket and laid it flat on the glass display case between Brad and his lawyer.

“You need to read this right now, Brad,” I said.

Brad didn’t pick up the paper at first.

He tapped his gold signet ring slowly on the glass three times, his mouth curling into that familiar smooth smile.

“Amy,” he said, keeping his tone light and easy.