I came down the stairs with a small stack of David’s leather-bound books and found Julian standing in the main hallway by the coat closet.

He stepped into my way, a white paper envelope in his hand.

“I paid David’s back property taxes this morning out of the goodness of my heart, Eleanor,” Julian said, his voice smooth and persuasive.

“Four thousand two hundred dollars.

You don’t have to worry about the county tax assessor anymore.”

“David didn’t owe any back taxes,” I said, putting the books down on the hall table.

“The county treasurer confirmed every account was settled.”