She pressed the tip to the paper and wrote her name in small, cramped cursive on the waiver line.

She shoved the pen away so hard it rolled across the mahogany and stopped against Mr.

Vance’s blotter.

“I hope you remember this day when you need help moving furniture or watching the baby,” Linda said to Ethan.

“Michael is helping us move our last boxes on Saturday,” Ethan said.

Mr.

Vance picked up the signed paper and walked around the table to the corner door, where a notary public sat at a smaller desk.

The metallic click of the notary seal pressing into the paper echoed through the silent room.