He sat down behind his wide mahogany desk and placed the blue folders in a neat stack.

He tapped his silver ballpoint pen against the leather ledger once, twice, three times before touching the sixth folder.

“Your father gave me strict instructions regarding this last file,” Samuel said, choosing his words with long, deliberate pauses.

“It was not to be unsealed until the probate judge issued a final ruling on Julian’s claims.”

He slid a thin pair of brass scissors under the glued paper seal and lifted the tab.

Inside lay a yellowed certificate from a Columbus banking firm and a two-sided letter written in Dad’s tight machinist’s script.