I drove to the point that afternoon. The gate stood closed. Beyond it, three yellow survey stakes had been hammered into the earth beside the old fence.

I photographed each one. There were fresh truck tracks under the oaks.

A white pickup idled on the county road. When I approached, the driver raised his window and left.

May you like

My phone rang again. This time Daniel spoke so softly I could barely hear him.

“Dad, there wasn’t one road agreement. There were two. One of them transfers the house.”