My Father Brought a Locksmith to Sell the Ranch I Bought
I looked at the blue paper but did not touch it. The word partition was printed in bold black letters across the top of the first page, followed by my name and my brother’s name.
“No,” I said.
“It is a fair compromise, Olivia,” Arthur said, his eyes finally rising to meet mine. “It keeps the family intact. It gives your brother a start.”
“I am not signing it,” I said, my voice flat and even. “I want my money back, Arthur, but I do not want your apology.”
He stared at me for five seconds, his chest rising and falling beneath his heavy wool coat, before he picked up the black plastic pen the clerk had left on the table.
He signed his name on the bottom line of the restitution agreement with a hard, scratching motion that tore the corner of the white paper.
The county clerk took the signed document, pressed a heavy metal seal onto the page with a sharp metallic clank, and handed a certified copy to Rachel.
