“We could offer Arthur a structured payment plan from the corporate liquidation fund and keep Greg’s medical files sealed away from the public record.”

“Arthur Vance posted a yellow foreclosure notice on my front door yesterday evening,” I told him.

“We are going to open court.”

The wooden staircase behind the dry cleaner smelled of hot steam, starch, and old floor wax.

I walked up the narrow steps and knocked once on the yellowed door frame at the top of the landing before turning the brass knob.

Greg was sitting alone at a small, square laminate table in the middle of the cramped room.