“I should get back to the office,” he said.

He buttoned his coat and reached into his inside breast pocket.

“Before I forget, I have a quick bit of paperwork for you.”

He pulled out a folded white tax waiver and a silver fountain pen.

“Just a routine tax form for the joint holdings account,” he said.

He pressed the paper flat against the polished oak hall table.

“Daniel needs it on file by tomorrow morning for the new fiscal quarter audit.”

He held the silver pen out toward me.