I walked down the porch steps with the folder against my chest, and the crowd parted like water. The two officials from the white SUV introduced themselves as investigators from the state attorney general’s office, and one of them, a calm woman named Agent Prather, asked Preston to step away from the microphone. “Sir, we have a complaint regarding a forged property agreement,” she said. Preston laughed too loudly. “This is a private celebration.”

I opened the folder and held it up. “Then you will not mind if everyone hears what is in it,” I said. Garrett finally walked toward me, pale in his wedding suit. “Mom, what did you sign at the courthouse?” he whispered. Behind him, Whitney’s hand tightened around her bouquet, and the children beneath the oak tree went completely silent as I turned to the first page.