While he sorted the filings into two stacks, the wall safe behind his desk stood open about an inch.

Inside I could see a long manila envelope, soft at the corners, with my grandmother’s handwriting across the front in blue ballpoint.

He saw me notice it and pushed the safe door closed with his knee.

The truck with the magnetic sign on its door was already backed up against the garden gate when I pulled in at four.

A man in a canvas vest stood at the corner of the porch with a clipboard and a measuring wheel.

Uncle Robert stood in the middle of the yard with his hands on his hips, twisting his signet ring around his finger.