Finally Claire nodded.
“Five minutes.”
Nathaniel’s office was on the forty-second floor, though it was less grand than Ruby expected.
There were bookshelves.
Family photographs.
A battered wooden desk tucked beside a much larger modern one.
A small framed picture showed a much younger Nathaniel standing beside an older woman wearing gardening gloves.
Ruby wandered toward it while the adults sat down.
“That’s my mother,” Nathaniel explained.
“Is she alive?”
“She is. She’s eighty-two and still believes every house needs too many tomato plants.”
Ruby smiled.
Claire did not.
Nathaniel placed the Bennett folder on the coffee table.
“I owe you an apology.”
Claire folded her arms.
“For which part?”
“Possibly several.”
“That’s not an encouraging beginning.”
“No.”
Nathaniel opened the folder.
Inside were property records, letters, photographs, and photocopies of checks.
One letter was handwritten.
Nathaniel slid it toward Claire.
She recognized the writing before touching it.
