The book held rows of duplicate green carbon timecards, each stamped with job site numbers and handwritten worker hours.

“Did he ask you to hold on to this for him?” Nathaniel asked.

“He told me to throw it in the dumpster last spring,” Evelyn said, leaning against the counter.

“I kept it because I know how my brother operates when money gets tight.”

Nathaniel touched the thin carbon paper.

“This has the original field hours from before he typed up his payroll summaries.”

“Take it,” Evelyn said, turning back to the coffee urns.