“And I’m not signing anything else.”
“I’m not here about the divorce.”
She opened her car door and stepped out. She wore a charcoal suit, heels that probably cost more than my motel room, and carried a leather briefcase.
“I’m here about your great-uncle, Samuel Hartfield.”
I blinked. Samuel. I had not thought about him in years. He was my grandfather’s brother, estranged from the family decades ago. I had met him once, maybe twice, at family gatherings when I was a child. He was quiet, intense, the kind of man who watched everyone from the corner of the room. I remembered my father saying Samuel was difficult and resentful. That was all I knew.
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