Chapter 23: Terms

My grandmother drove us to the house in the Buick and parked at the curb.

"I'll wait on the porch," she said. "I brought a casserole dish. It's glass."

"Nana."

"I'm only saying it's heavy."

My mother stayed in the car. She said she had nothing left to say to him that she hadn't already said into a camera.

Lindsey and I walked up the front path together.

The door was unlocked. The kitchen light was on, and my father sat at the table in his shirtsleeves with his tuxedo jacket over a chair.

There were papers in front of him, and a pen.

He stood when we came in, and then didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

"Thank you for coming."

"We're not staying long," I said.

"I understand."

Neither of us sat. He remained standing too.

"I called a lawyer on the drive," he said. "I've signed the house over to your mother.

"The savings go into a fund, split between the two of you. Neither of you has to touch it."

"We don't want your money," Lindsey said.

"It isn't a gift. It's what I owe."

"What else?"

He looked down at the table.

"On Monday I go to the board's review. I'll answer every question under oath.

"The pen, the ambulance, the envelopes, the cards. I won't blame anyone but myself."

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