Brent did not laugh.
“Sorry,” she said. “Bad timing.”
“What do you want?”
Anna studied him.
“Nothing.”
He blinked.
“You own almost an acre of land.”
“I own a piece of paper saying I own almost an acre.”
“That matters.”
“Sometimes.”
She turned to Dad.
“I actually came here today because I heard about the complaint.”
Dad sighed.
“Everybody heard.”
“Small county.”
She handed him an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“A deed.”
Dad looked at her.
“To what?”
“The strip.”
He did not open it.
“No.”
Anna raised an eyebrow.
“I haven’t offered anything yet.”
“I know what you’re going to offer.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“No.”
“Gus.”
“I don’t need your land.”
“You’ve been gardening on it for fifty years.”
“Borrowing.”
“You can’t borrow land from a dead woman indefinitely.”
Dad folded his arms.
Anna smiled.
There was something almost Ruth-like in the way she regarded him, though I had never met Ruth.
