“Did anyone,” I asked slowly, “actually check what Grandpa wrote in the trust documents? Have you read them recently?”
Mom waved a hand dismissively. “Your father manages the trust. He knows what’s appropriate.”
“I’d still like to see the actual documents,” I said.
“Cassie, don’t be difficult.” Dad’s voice dropped to that warning register that used to stop me mid-tantrum when I was eight years old. “This is already decided. Eric and Shannon will move in November first. You need to make arrangements.”
I stood up, my legs feeling strange and hollow beneath me.
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