It was nearly nine o’clock, and someone was knocking on Ana Marie’s storm door. She laid her dishrag in the sink and walked into the living room with Banjo coming along behind her. As she approached the foyer, she saw the caller was a woman, elderly, older than Ana Marie by at least a decade. She was small, too, no threat at all. That was a relief, given the hour. “Yes?” Ana Marie called.
“You’ll take me now, I hope,” the woman said. “I saw your sign.”
“My sign?” Ana Marie asked but realized the woman’s meaning even before she’d finished the question. “Oh, yes! I can take you.” She noted the bound accordion folder the woman cradled in her arms and felt a little thrill. She unlatched the door and pushed it open. “Welcome,” she said. “Please, come in.”
The woman stepped into the foyer, trailed by the fragrance of orchids. “I’ve never had to do this before if you can believe it,” she said. Her manner seemed curt, almost put-upon, as if Ana Marie had caused her a great hassle. “I wasn’t sure how to find you other than by driving around and looking. I’m useless with the Internet, and they haven’t delivered a Yellow Pages in years.”
Ana Marie didn’t say so, but she’d never done this before, either. She’d only received her certification three days earlier. When the packet arrived, she’d made an announcement on Facebook and affixed the decal to her front picture window: Certified Notary Public. She’d gotten no response until now. “Are you selling a car?” she asked, leading the woman through the living room. “What was your name? I’m Ana Marie.”
“Regina,” the woman said, “and, no, I’m not selling anything.” At the far sound of her voice, Ana Marie turned to see Regina had come to a stop, trapped by Banjo, who was making a show of greeting her, sniffing her shoes and knees, his tail fanning wildly.
Ana Marie commanded him to heel in the tone that Gus had taught her. The dog turned and came to her, sitting and bouncing on his haunches to show that she had called him away from important business. To her guest, she asked, “Can I offer you something? Tea, maybe? Or water?”
“I’d prefer we get down to it,” Regina said. She stepped into the dining room ahead of Ana Marie and laid her folder on the dining table’s worn wooden top. “Is this good?”
“It’s fine,” Ana Marie said, showing a hint of pique. The woman was here on business, sure, but she was still a visitor in someone’s home, and politeness was free. “I’ll get my things.”
They sat with their chairs pushed close enough together that they could easily pass documents between them. With her new ink stamp and embosser and notary journal in front of her, Ana Marie felt like a student on the first day of school, sitting primly with fresh supplies. Banjo lay at their feet.
“I need to transfer the deed to my home,” Regina said, removing a stack of papers from her
