“Don’t call here again,” my DIL said.
The connection ended before I could take another breath.
—
Two days later, a courier arrived at the trailer carrying a slim envelope on Daniel’s stationery. The letter instructed me not to contact the family or challenge anything.
It claimed their father had been confused during his final months and said they would not tolerate interference.
I read it twice, folded it carefully, and placed it in a drawer. I did not respond. I had no strength left to fight and was not even certain I had any legal right to do so.
—
My neighbor Joyce came over that Sunday carrying a tuna casserole.
“Heard you were new,” she said, placing it on my counter as if we had known each other for years. “I don’t ask questions unless they’re invited.”
“I appreciate that,” I told her.
“My Walter passed in ’09. The first month, I forgot how to eat. So I’m not asking if you’re hungry. I’m just leaving this here.”
