The pen rolled an inch across the tablecloth before he let go of it.

Sarah lifted the deed by its corner, read the signature line out loud, and slid it into the black leather portfolio.

“Julian Price.

November twenty-first.

Witnessed and notarized at eight twenty-two in the kitchen.”

Frank kept both palms flat on the table.

His coffee sat in front of him, and he didn’t reach for it.

“Nora,” Julian said.