Sarah set the briefcase on the sideboard, opened it, and took out two folders and a single sheet of paper.

“The first document is a quitclaim deed for this house,” she said.

“The second is a separation agreement.

Both dated tonight.”

The roast chicken had gone cold on its platter.

A skin had formed on the gravy in the boat, and the candles had burned down to stubs in the good holders.

Frank turned the ledger around so Julian could see his own numbers.

“Explain the mortgage.”