What blue papers, Evelyn?” I asked, sitting down across from her and touching her hand.
“The ones the young man from the county had last week,” she said, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles to release the scent. “He said they were just utility updates, but I told him I did not want any changes.”
“Why did you think they were blue papers?” I asked.
“They had a blue backing paper,” she said, her voice small. “The kind lawyers use for official filings.”
“Did you sign anything at all for him?” I asked.
She shook her head, her gaze drifting toward the window where the greenhouse stood. “No. I told him to speak with Douglas.”
“Did Cameron see these blue papers?” I asked.
Evelyn paused, her hand hovering over her teacup. “Cameron was here that day. He said he would handle the young man for me.”
“Did he take the papers?” I asked.
“I believe they went into his briefcase,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Did he ask you to sign anything else that day?” I asked.
“It was a bank draft,” she said. “No personal name is listed on this digital screen.”
“Does it show the name of the survey company?” I asked.
Brenda leaned back, her chair squeaking against the linoleum. “A local firm called Peak Land Services did the physical work on Tuesday.”
“Are they based here in Orem?” I asked.
“Yes,” Brenda said, tapping her finger on the desk. “They are on State Street, just past the old orchard.”
“Did they submit a report yet?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Brenda said. “But the filing is marked as pending final approval.”
I thanked her and walked out into the bright autumn sun, my mind spinning with the cost of the filing.
At one in the afternoon, the kitchen in the stone cottage was warm, but Evelyn looked small sitting at the pine table.
She poured three drops of rosemary oil into her small ceramic diffuser, her fingers trembling slightly as the glass bottle clinked against the rim.
“I never signed any blue papers, Sienna, no matter what that document says,” she said, her voice rhythmic and quiet.
