The sliding glass door creaked open behind us, and Richard stepped out onto the veranda holding a heavy brass key ring.

He wore a tailored charcoal suit with gold cufflinks polished to a high shine.

He checked the left cuff, adjusted it twice with his right thumb, and lowered himself into the wicker armchair across from me.

“Your mother’s told you what we’ve decided,” Richard said, his booming voice smooth and sure of itself.

“She showed me a check, yes,” I said.

“It’s a sincere gesture of good faith,” Richard said.