I stopped just beyond reach of the heat and waited for him to look up at me.

He was whistling some tune I didn’t know.

He knocked the spatula against the edge of the grill grate to shake the grease loose.

“Burgers are about done, kiddo,” he said.

“Grab yourself a paper plate off the stack on the table.”

I held out the folded copy of the county clerk’s record.

“I pulled this from the municipal office just this morning.”

He set the spatula down on the side of the grill.