“If Garrett finds out you mortgaged your own land, he’ll use it at the board meeting on December fifteenth to argue you’re losing your financial judgment,” Dale said.

“Let him argue whatever he likes,” I said.

“Can you approve the private line or not?”

Dale took a black pen from his vest pocket and slid a signature card across the table.

“Sign at the bottom,” he said.

“The money will clear before three.”

“Thanks, Dale,” I said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, the pen still in his fingers.