The landlord, who answered directly to my asset manager, was preparing to lock him out by Friday.

“He is very busy with his new venture,” Gloria continued, her tone turning patronizing.

“Real business, Jocelyn. Not this little hobby of yours.”

She gestured vaguely at my desk calendar and the neat stacks of folders.

“It must be nice to have a little distraction during the day while the girls are at school,” she said.

“But Graham carries the weight of this family on his shoulders.”

“Does he?” I asked, turning a page of the document.

“Because this document mentions a liquidity shortfall in the third quarter.”

Gloria reached across the desk and snatched the paper back, folding it quickly.

“You misread it,” she said, her voice sharp.

“There is no shortfall.”

“I saw the figures, Gloria. The trust accounts are down forty percent since January.”

She stood up, her face flushing a dark, mottled red beneath her heavy foundation.

“The markets are fluctuating,” she said, her voice rising.

“It is temporary. We are restructuring a few debts, that is all.”

“Which debts?” I asked.