“I said it isn’t for sale.

He wrote on a napkin, put the napkin in his coat pocket, and paid for my lunch.”

Frank picked up a sack of flour and set it inside the door.

“I thought he was being a son-in-law,” he said.

“I’ve thought about that napkin every night since Thursday.”

So in July Daniel had a map of my south fence line.

In August somebody practiced my daughter’s signature on a loan inquiry.