“I have no interest in taking it from you.”

“I never said you did.”

He looked at me for another second, then walked toward his car.

I watched him leave before starting the Buick.

The engine turned over on the first try, a small favor I needed badly enough not to take for granted.

At Samuel’s office the clock showed twenty past eight.

Samuel had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

The blue folder lay open across his desk, with the adoption index on one side and the petition on the other.