"I'm not the police," Simone said. "What happens next depends on the evidence and on decisions made by the appropriate authorities. You need to understand that this is serious, regardless of what Mr. Holloway promised you."
A horn sounded once outside. Arthur turned toward the window. Grant Holloway's gray sedan had pulled to the curb behind Simone's car. Grant stepped out in a tan coat, already talking into his phone, and walked toward the front porch with the brisk assurance of a man who expected everyone to be ready when he arrived. The door was still open an inch. He pushed it wider without knocking.
"Well, look at this," Grant said cheerfully. "We're making progress. Malcolm, I got the truck company to move you to the morning slot, which will save us a little money." His smile faltered when he noticed Simone standing beside the box. "And you must be the lady from the title office."
"No," Simone said. "I'm counsel for Mr. Bennett."
Grant's smile returned, thinner this time. "Wonderful. Everyone having someone represent them can make a transaction very smooth. I'm sure we can answer whatever concerns came up."
"There is a court order restraining the transaction," Simone said. "Your company is being notified through its counsel. I have copies available, but substantive communication should go through the attorneys."
Grant glanced at Malcolm. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything," Malcolm said. "You told me my dad signed that resignation paper. He says he never did. The notary says she never stamped it."
"Let's not make accusations in a living room," Grant answered. He spoke softly, with an edge beneath the politeness. "There are deadlines, financing arrangements, and serious financial consequences when people start changing their minds."
Arthur stepped forward. "I didn't change mine. I never agreed."
For a moment Grant looked directly at him. "Mr. Bennett, your son has tried very hard to protect your future. I would hate to see a misunderstanding damage your family."
"My family was damaged before you drove up," Arthur said. "You've helped make it worse. Now leave my house."
Grant looked as though he might argue. Then he noticed Simone's phone beside the stack of papers and the official seal on the page she had left in full view. He straightened his coat, said that his attorney would be in touch, and walked out. Arthur watched him cross the porch without the smallest glance at the maple tree, the painted railing, or the worn steps. To Grant, the house had always been a figure in a spreadsheet. Arthur wondered how many other families had watched him walk through their doors with that same smile.