“The town doesn’t make that call, ma’am.

The town mails the notice.” She said it without any edge, and I liked her for it.

“If you want copies, it’s a dollar a page.”

“I’ll take all of it.”

She counted out twenty-six pages, and I paid her in cash.

Outside, the afternoon had turned gray and low, with clouds sitting heavy over the rooftops, and I stood on the steps and read the last page once more.

Two years of taxes, never paid, on a company with my name on the ownership line and a man in New Canaan collecting the mail.