My mother squeezed her eyes shut and took a handkerchief out of her purse.

Chelsea shifted in her chair and turned her head toward the window overlooking the rainy Portland skyline.

I didn’t flinch, and I didn’t raise my voice.

I unzipped the side pocket of my briefcase and took out three clear plastic document sleeves.

I placed the first sleeve in the middle of the table, right between Mr.

Miller and my father.

Inside was my original Oregon vehicle title, showing the clean red stamp from the state confirming the lien was fully satisfied three years ago, with only my name on the ownership line.