Joyce picked up the third page of the financial packet, her thumb rubbing the rough edge of the paper where the official seal was stamped. She peered through the lower half of her bifocals, her face tightening.
“He didn’t sign it,” she said, sliding the page back toward me. “Look right there under the federal disclosure block. The line for the secondary obligor is as clean as a fresh sheet of typing paper.”
I looked down at the empty line where Stephen’s signature belonged, the white space bright against the blue ink of the rest of the form. “He told me he handled it online. He said he received a confirmation number.”
“Stephen always has a confirmation number for things he hasn’t actually finished,” Joyce said, folding her hands in her lap with a quiet, deliberate sigh. “He leaves the heavy lifting for the rest of us while he stands around looking like the supervisor.”
“I’ll have to ask him directly,” I said, tucking the documents back into my manila folder. “But I need to speak with Barbra first.”
