“She doesn’t need officers or inspectors marching up your walk every three days.”

I looked down at the signature line on page three, where a little yellow sticky tab marked the spot for my name.

“I’ll read it all the way through before I sign anything,” I said.

Harry got up out of the wicker chair and patted the wooden armrest twice with his palm.

“Fair enough,” he said.

“I’ll swing back by at six to pick up the signed copy.”

I watched his golf cart rumble off down the driveway and swing back toward his stone gates.