“The desk is clear now, Samuel,” I said.

“Everything is exactly where Dad wanted it to be.”

Samuel took the signed deeds, folded them into a manila envelope, and pressed down the metal clasp.

“Your father opened a protected trust account for you forty years ago at First National Bank,” Samuel said, pulling a long paper folder from his briefcase.

“He deposited five thousand dollars when you turned fourteen and left it entirely untouched.”

He placed a certified cashier’s check on the desk in front of me.