David shut his legal pad and laid his pen parallel to the edge of the desk.

“The courier will want a check.”

I pulled one out of my bag and signed it without asking how much.

On Friday afternoon Sarah piled the asset ledgers on my desk and put a turkey sandwich next to them.

Her leather tote hung off the back of the chair and dragged it sideways.

“I need a commercial tow company on call,” I said.

“One that can repossess a Mercedes out of a private driveway without making a scene.”