“He was soft.”

“He was weak at the end.”

“He wasn’t weak,” I said.

“He was tired of watching you two take what wasn’t yours.”

The sound of the car engine stopped outside.

A heavy car door slammed shut.

Then another door slammed.

The sound echoed through the high ceilings of the house.

“Sign it,” Charles whispered, his hand shaking as he pushed the gold pen into my fingers.

“Sign it now, Eleanor.”

“Eight hundred thousand dollars.”

“It is on the table.”

My fingers closed around the cold metal of the pen.

The weight of it felt immense in my hand.

I looked at the paper.

I looked at the check.

I could see the blue ink of the signature line.

I could see the dust motes dancing in the afternoon light coming through the window.

The grandfather clock in the hallway began to chime the hour.

It was four o’clock.

The heavy oak front door downstairs creaked open.

A man’s voice called out from the entryway.

“Hello?” the voice called.

“Is anyone upstairs?”

It was the sheriff.

I knew his voice from the county fairs.