Arthur stood rooted on the frosty porch while steel cuffs clicked around Julian’s wrists in the back of the transport van.

The marshal walked Julian down the front steps toward the back door of the dark utility vehicle.

In the front room, two federal agents carried cardboard boxes down from the master suite, their boots thudding on the floorboards.

Harper sat on the edge of the sofa with her fingers knotted tightly in her lap.

“You can fix this, Eleanor,” Harper said, her voice falling to a thin, breathless pitch.

“Call their office and tell them it was a mix-up over the business license.”