‘If $300 Matters That Much, You’re Poor,’ My Sister Laughed – The Next Morning, Mom Called Us Ab0ut Her Will***

When I pulled into her driveway, Amanda’s SUV was already there.

Inside, Mom was sitting at the dining table with Graham, the attorney who’d handled Dad’s estate after he died six years earlier.

Two folders sat in front of him.

One had Amanda’s name.

The other had mine.

Amanda smiled.

Mom didn’t answer.

Graham pushed Amanda’s folder toward her.

She opened it.