“I am not sore.

I am counting.” I unwrapped my grandfather’s leather tie from the survey deeds and laid them on the bench, four pages, the ink gone brown at the folds.

“You, me, and the lady at the diner.

That is everybody in this county over sixty who gave him a dollar.”

Frank laughed without much in it.

“She gave him four thousand and a coffee maker.”

“Did she tell you that, or did Arthur?”