Chapter 18: Fair Price

The lender's office was a rented conference room on the fourth floor of a bank building, with a view of the parking lot.

My father's envelope was still sealed in my coat.

Read it before I decided anything about the Ferri boy, my aunt had said, and I had decided to do it the other way round.

The note first, on paper, with my name on it. Whatever my father wrote would not be in this room.

Ottavio's grandmother was already there.

She sat in the corner in a black wool coat, with her handbag on her knees and her feet not quite touching the floor.

She looked me over from my shoes to my hair, and I stood still and let her.

"You have your father's chin," she said.

"People tell me I have his stubbornness."

"That too."

The man in the grey coat sat down at the head of the table and laid out three folders.

"Cashier's check," he said, and Ottavio set it on the table beside them.

It was for three million, four hundred thousand dollars.

I looked at it for a long moment.

"Before anyone signs anything," I said, "I have a paper of my own."

My lawyer slid it across to Ottavio.

It was a single page. It named the full amount, the rate his bank was charging him, and the date my account would open again.

"What is this?" he said.

"A note. I buy the Aurelio block's paper from you at exactly what you paid. Interest to the day. I sign here."

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