On March 20 I arrived early enough to hear the office heating start before the telephones did. I had drafted Nolan's letter at home, then brought it in unfinished because the sentence I kept moving belonged neither in a private apology nor in a company assurance. It belonged in a record he could use.
I began with the purpose of our review and a list of the materials examined. After that came three sections: observations from the papers, statements supplied by the family, and matters not established. I removed the word verified from a heading. Matching a receipt to an inventory entry did not verify every claim attached to the property.
The troublesome sentence came near the end: "My earlier assurance exceeded the documentation I had reviewed, and I accept responsibility for giving it." I read it aloud softly. It sounded formal, but it said what I had told him in his apartment without making his uncertainty responsible for my mistake.
Grant came in carrying the held catalogue proof. I gave him the letter and asked him to check the description of our records, not to sign it for me. He read standing up until he reached the last section, then sat in the visitor's chair.
"The factual separation is good," he said. "Keep that. But we should describe this as a more cautious review adopted in the present circumstances."
"It is a more cautious review. That isn't why I owe him a correction."
Grant drew a line beside the sentence rather than through it. He said the wording suggested a failure broader than the evidence supported. My original estimate had reflected experience, market conditions and the collection as presented. A deficiency in purchase records did not prove that the estimate had been wrong.
"I'm not saying it proves that," I said. "I'm saying I gave him more assurance than I had earned."
"A client will hear what he wants to hear."
"Then I should give him something precise to read."
He looked again at the page. I had stated that the review neither authenticated the collection nor established counterfeiting, and that no connection to the public prosecution had been identified. Grant asked me to move that passage higher. I did. It was a useful correction to the order, not an attempt to erase the problem.
He then offered a replacement for my sentence: the firm had reconsidered the level of assurance appropriate to incomplete historical documentation. I typed it beneath my version so we could see both. The replacement was smooth, impersonal and possible to agree with without learning that I had ever told Nolan anything different.
"That describes a change in practice," I said. "He asked about what I told him."
Grant set down his pen. "You understand this letter may end the consignment."
I said I understood. What I meant was that I could describe the consequence, not that I had ceased hoping it would spare me. He told me to retain the factual safeguards and make clear that any decision to proceed would require a revised discussion. He would not forbid my sentence, but he would not call it necessary.
After he left, I deleted his replacement and printed the letter. I checked every attachment against the list, numbered the pages and signed my name. Then I called Nolan to ask whether he wanted it delivered or preferred to collect it. He said he would come himself.
We sat across my desk while he read. He paused over the division between documents and family statements, turning once to an attachment. I kept my hands off the pages. When he finished, he asked whether the catalogue had been printed. I told him the entry remained on hold.
"Then postpone my consignment," he said.
I explained that I would confirm the postponement in writing and arrange a property handover. He asked whether waiting would produce the missing papers. I said I couldn't promise that. Waiting would give him time to consider his options without having the scheduled sale make the decision for him.
"That's what I want," he said. He folded the letter once and placed it in his coat pocket rather than handing it back for the file.
I wrote his instruction while he watched and read it aloud before asking for his signature. He signed only the postponement, not an endorsement of my review or a release of his dissatisfaction. After he left, I carried the instruction to Grant. The letter had gone out in my name. The decision that came back belonged to Nolan.