“They committed bank fraud to keep the estate from being seized during the audit.”

“It means their claim to the property is entirely void,” I said.

“The court will invalidate the transfer immediately.”

“Yes,” Lena said.

“We don’t have to wait for the foreclosure trial.”

“The judge will sign the summary judgment tomorrow morning.”

I walked over to the window.

The rain was leaving long, silver streaks on the dark glass.

“Call the Greenwich Historical Preservation Trust,” I said.

“Tell them the deed will be ready by Friday.”

“Are you sure you want to give it away, Nora?” Lena asked.

“The land alone is worth thirty million.”

“I don’t want the land,” I said.

“And I don’t want their money.”

“I want the name removed.”

***

The air inside Darrow House smelled of damp oak and old wax.

The grand foyer was stripped of its Persian rugs.

Only the dark wood paneling remained, casting long shadows across the marble floor.

Mr. Vance, the director of the Greenwich Historical Trust, stood by the fireplace.

He was a thin man in a grey tweed coat.