His voice softened when he mentioned Grandma. For the first time that evening, I saw the sadness beneath his anger.
He had lost the woman he loved after sixty-two years of marriage. Since then, the house had grown quieter. Her chair beside the window remained empty, and her favorite blue mug still sat on the kitchen shelf because Grandpa couldn’t bring himself to put it away.
Instead of gathering around him or helping him through his grief, his children had spent the past eight months discussing how to divide his life.
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“Your mother used to tell me that family is the one thing money can’t replace,” Grandpa continued. “I believed her, and I still do. But she also taught me that loving someone doesn’t mean allowing them to destroy you.”
Then he looked toward the front door.
“Katie, please bring Mr. Dawson inside.”
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped against the wooden floor.
“Of course, Grandpa.”
As I walked toward the porch, I heard Linda whisper urgently to Gary.
“What did he do? What has he signed?”
