You officially own the firewood.”
My uncle looked at him.
“You might want to stop talking until we know what else is in there.”
That shut him up.
We carried the wardrobe fully into the U-Haul, but I did not drive away yet.
The loose wooden strip had exposed a narrow compartment beneath the lowest drawer.
I knelt and ran my fingers along the gap.
There was another bundle inside.
This one contained no fortune, no secret stack of cash, no miraculous treasure.
What it held was more dangerous to my family than money.
Records.
Dad had kept copies of household documents, notes about property, insurance information, bank statements, and handwritten dates showing when he had discussed his estate plans.
The papers did not create some fantasy inheritance worth millions.
They did something more important.
They made it very difficult for anyone to pretend his wishes had been invented after his death.
There were also several pages in Dad’s handwriting describing the funeral arrangements he wanted and noting that reasonable funeral expenses should be paid from his estate.
I thought of my notebook.
$4,500.
Every receipt.
Every payment.
Every dollar my family had ignored that afternoon.
Michael saw my expression.
“What now?”
I walked to the cab of the truck and retrieved my purse.
From it, I took the small notebook I had carried since Dad entered the hospital.
I opened to the funeral page.
Casket.
Memorial service.
Food.
Burial plot.
Transportation.
Total: $4,500.
Sarah frowned.
“You actually wrote all that down?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I looked at her.
“Because I knew someday somebody would act like it never happened.”
Nobody answered.
For the first time that afternoon, the silence belonged to me.
Mom recovered first.
“Fine.
We can reimburse you for the funeral.
That doesn’t mean we have to undo everything else.”
I held up Dad’s will.
“That is exactly what this means.”
Michael stepped closer.
“Don’t be ridiculous.
I already made plans for the house.”
“You received a deed from a box less than an hour ago.”
“Mom said it was mine.”
“Dad said his estate was to be handled properly.”
His voice rose.
“I have a family and a mortgage.
You live alone.
What do you even need a third of a house for?”
