Ethan snatches the clipboard and a black velvet bag and jumps out of the Jeep in what seems to be one fluid movement. I disembark less elegantly while fumbling with my cardboard box. I hurry to catch up, his strides propelling him up the gravel drive with a speed disproportionate to his effort. Almost absentmindedly he grabs the sack by the bottom and lets the heavy contents slide its length and hit the clipboard with a hollow thump. He pinches the two together as magician might hide a card or a spongy ball. At this point I’ve fallen impossibly behind. I break into a light jog to