Eleanor hadn’t touched the logs since they landed in front of her.

Now she drew the thick leather folder across the table, the one I had seen on the wet gravel with her hand pressed flat on it, and opened it to a blue tab.

“Before we settle anything, I’d like the room to see what the buyer was actually buying.”

Gavin sat forward.

“The valuation in your hands is conservative.

Whitcombe alone carries us through the next two quarters.”

“Whitcombe has no contract.” She said it the way you read a gate number.