Paying three hundred thousand dollars of debt before being ordered out of the house
Across from me, Marcus sat with his hands flat on the polished wood, rotating his gold signet ring with a slow, mechanical rhythm.
To his left sat Evelyn, her wool coat still draped over her shoulders, her three-strand pearl necklace gleaming against her high-collared silk blouse.
Arthur stood near the tall window, both hands buried deep in his trousers pockets, his shoulders hunched as he stared down at the gray morning traffic.
Their attorney, Thomas Fletcher, was a man with thin silver hair and a leather briefcase that looked older than my entire career.
“We appreciate you making the time, Clare,” Marcus said, his voice carrying that rapid, enthusiastic burst of corporate energy I had lived with for four years. “But really, this is just a formality to close out the restructuring paperwork now that the main liabilities have been cleared.”
He slid a thin manila folder toward my side of the table.
I did not touch it.
Beside me, David Vance opened his black briefcase with two crisp clicks of the brass latches. He pulled out a thick stack of documents and set them down, then reached into his pocket for his blue silk cloth and began cleaning his wire-rimmed glasses.
