Arthur pen drawing of hidden animals decided who kept the lake cabin

Raymond whispered, his voice thin but steady.

“Arthur made sure of that before the first snow fell last year,” he whispered.

He pressed his notary stamp down onto the paper, the sharp click of the metal frame echoing in the quiet office.

He handed me the notarized affidavit, the ink still slightly damp.

“It is nine forty-five,” Clara continue reading …