Walter held out his hand. Ethan took it. His grip was firm but nervous. “You didn’t have to do that,” Walter said.
Ethan looked at him. “Yes, sir.” “I did.” “No.”
You wanted to. That’s different. Ethan considered this and nodded. “Fair enough.”
Walter’s eyes moved to the auction clerk approaching with forms. “You got eighty thousand dollars?” Maya made a sound of protest at the bluntness. Ethan laughed again.
“Not in my pocket.” “That wasn’t the question.” “No, sir.” “I have financing.”
I own a small commercial restoration company in Kansas City. My bank approved me up to ninety-five for the property after I sent them the auction packet. Walter blinked. “You planned this?”
“I planned the possibility.” “There was a difference, Walter knew.” Ethan paid the required deposit while Walter stood nearby refusing to leave until he understood more. The paperwork took fifteen minutes.
Afterward, they moved outside because the barn had become too loud and the dust too thick for the conversation both men knew was coming. The Kansas sky stretched huge and pale over the gravel parking lot. Maya stood beside Walter with her arms folded against the wind. Ethan shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and looked toward a row of cottonwoods turning yellow along the county road.