The edges curled slightly, just like natural parchment.

I took out a small piece of fine sandstone from my kit.

I lightly scraped the surface of the dried, tea-stained paper to raise the nap.

This gave it the slightly fuzzy texture characteristic of rag paper that had been handled over the years.

I used a magnifying loupe to inspect the grain.

The fibers lay flat, just as they should.

Then I took a small dropper of distilled water and added a tiny drop to the corner.

The water absorbed slowly, confirming the paper’s sizing was still intact.

Next was the ink.

Modern ink contains synthetic polymers that shine under ultraviolet light.

The oak gall ink in my kit was made from traditional iron salts and tannic acid.

It would sink deep into the paper fibers, turning a dull, brownish-black over time.

“I need your grandfather’s signature,” I said to Alexander.

“And the signature of the family notary from 1994.”

Alexander closed his eyes, visualizing the documents.

“My grandfather signed with a heavy downstroke on the ‘W’,” he said. “The notary was a man named Arthur Vance. He always used a blue-black ink and crossed his ‘t’s very low.”