As soon as the airplane took off, it was only a matter of minutes before we began the descent. Hal picked me up, and we proceeded directly to the meeting with Sol Bakerfield. His law office was in the stretch of town between Minneapolis and St. Paul, in a quaint historic mansion that had been converted for commercial use, including a coffee shop and a small restaurant that served traditional English tea with scones and cucumber sandwiches.

“This is too cutesy for me.” Hal gestured to the rose garden decor, dried floral arrangements, and patterned wallpaper.

“Give him a chance,” I said. But he was right: the decor was abysmal. We waited in the lobby next to a small military cannon surrounded by framed war medals and flags. Clearly, Mr. Bakerfield was a fan of the Civil War.

Finally, he emerged and introduced himself. He was closer to my height than Hal’s, about five-nine, and solidly built. He wore brown pants and a brown corduroy vest over a mattress-striped cotton shirt with his sleeves rolled up as high as they could go. With his shaggy hair and sandy brown mustache, he resembled a sheepdog with glasses. He brought us into his office, which was adorned with even more Civil War memorabilia.

Hal looked for a place to hang his overcoat but, seeing none, draped it over the back of a chair. I did the same with my jacket. There was a chill between me and Hal, as we had repeated the same arguments on the car ride from the airport, until there was nothing more to say and we rode the rest of the way without speaking.

“Please sit,” said Mr. Bakerfield, gesturing.

We took the two visitor chairs opposite the oversize desk, which was covered in piles of folders.

“I’ve looked over the papers you sent me,” said Mr. Bakerfield. He shuffled through a stack and pulled out a tattered Redrope folder.

“What’d you send him?” Hal asked me, sounding defensive, as if he were being graded. I wondered if he knew of any weaknesses in the contract.

I leaned toward Hal and said, “Pat sent him a copy of the whole agreement, and what else? Kristin faxed over my notes from interviewing the hospital, stuff about the security tape, the credit card report.”

“I didn’t actually need all of that, but it’s good to err on the side of providing it,” said Mr. Bakerfield.

“Okay,” said Hal, as if the quantity of information were keeping us afloat rather than the quality.

“And it was helpful background.” Mr. Bakerfield placed in front of us a piece of paper. “This is a time line I’ve put together. I’d like you to review its accuracy and fill in the missing points of data. I understand you are an attorney, Mr. Olson, so you’ll be familiar with much of this.”

“But not family law,” I said.