I unfolded it.
An eviction notice dated that morning.
My vision swam.
Mr. Henderson didn’t even glance at it. He calmly adjusted his glasses, folded his hands, looked at her, and said, “Actually, we won’t be discussing the property today.”
Linda laughed out loud. “I’m his only child. It’s mine. Read it.”
The lawyer removed a stamped document from a manila folder and placed it carefully on the desk.
“Three days ago,” he said evenly, “your father didn’t own the farm anymore.”
The room went silent.
Linda’s smile flickered. “Excuse me?”
Mr. Henderson adjusted his glasses again.
