Arthur Nelson Protected His Wyoming Mountain Cabin with a Trust
The check slid out, the crisp blue ink displaying the sum of five thousand dollars exactly, made out to Marsh Law Offices.
I signed the withdrawal slip, the paper feeling thin and fragile between my fingers.
This was the money I had planned to use for the new cedar shingles on the south-facing gable, but those would have to wait.
I walked back down the street toward Rebecca’s office, the paper slip folded once inside my shirt pocket.
The wind was stronger now, rattling the signs of the small businesses along the block.
Rebecca was still at her desk when I entered, the folders from this morning now stacked neatly in a small wooden tray.
I pulled the check from my pocket and laid it flat on the desk, aligning it with the edge of her blotter.
“Here is the filing fee,” I said.
Rebecca picked up the paper, her eyes scanning the figures before she nodded. “I will have the final deed transfer recorded before the courthouse closes tomorrow.”
