I looked at the blue map, seeing the tiny square of Julian’s shop dwarfed by the massive shaded areas Caleb had acquired.
“If the marriage is valid, the shop belongs to you now,” Arthur said, turning to face me. “You are the sole owner.”
“I am a volunteer, Arthur,” I said. “I help people find their rooms. I do not own commercial real estate.”
“You do now,” Arthur said. “And that makes you the only obstacle to a multi-million-dollar project.”
The weight of the silence in the records room was heavy, broken only by the distant hum of traffic on the street below.
“Caleb will not stop,” Arthur added. “He will use every resource he has to prove Julian was incompetent when he signed those papers.”
“He seemed very sure of himself in the hospital,” I said.
“He is used to getting what he wants,” Arthur said. “But he does not know about the marriage certificate yet.”
“What happens when he finds out?” I asked.
“He will come after you,” Arthur said. “He will try to paint you as an opportunist who took advantage of a dying old man.”
