The preliminary hearing was held in a courthouse two towns inland. I arrived early, carrying a folder of old signatures and my mother's silver pen. I had used the pen to sign my lease the week before. I had not wanted a ceremonial object. I wanted to use something that had belonged to her and still felt like mine.
Eli drove me there, but I went into the courtroom alone.
The bank's lawyer, Marjorie Lane, introduced herself before the hearing. She was polished and direct. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to.
"Miss Vale," she said, "we believe you authorized the loan guarantee. We're here to establish that the document should remain enforceable while the matter is reviewed."
"I understand."
"You signed the renovation budgets, correct?"
"Yes."
"You approved the contractor pay
