Glenn took a slow, deliberate step toward me, closing the space between us in the narrow foyer.

“Get your boxes off my porch and get yourself off my property,” he said.

I stood my ground and looked him straight in the face.

“You’re committing massive federal fraud,” I said.

“I’m managing my own real estate,” Glenn said.

I turned my back on him and walked out the open front door onto the sunny wooden porch.

Aunt Martha stood at the far edge of the gravel driveway, holding a green plastic watering can over a bed of hydrangeas.

She had on her thick yellow gardening gloves and a wide-brimmed straw hat.