“We’re only protecting you, Daddy.”
After I declined, their warmth disappeared. They began describing me as obstinate, forgetful, and unable to handle my own money.
They overlooked how I’d built a multimillion-dollar logistics business from two borrowed trucks over thirty-eight years.
They also knew nothing of the letter Eleanor had left behind, which I’d finally read the night before.
“Harold, if Vanessa ever makes you feel like you must purchase her love, remember this: you already gave her everything a father should. Don’t give her your dignity, too.”
At her grave, those words finally settled into place.
I sent neither of them a response. I searched my contacts instead, selecting a number untouched for six years.
Someone I knew well picked up.
“Harold Bennett? Is everything all right?”
“Not quite, Richard.”
