Then I crossed them out.
This wasn’t the place for that argument.
Whitman glanced toward me.
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Judge Morrison turned.
“Ms. Parker. Your witness.”
I stood.
My father leaned back, preparing himself for what he clearly expected would be an emotional confrontation.
I could almost hear him rehearsing his response.
See? This is what she’s like.
Instead, I said, “No questions at this time, Your Honor.”
My father’s mouth curved into a smile.
Mr. Whitman looked briefly surprised, then satisfied.
Judge Morrison studied me.
“Ms. Parker, you’re aware that your father’s testimony directly challenges both your credibility and your
ability to manage the property involved?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“And you do not wish to cross-examine him?”
“Not at this time.”
The judge paused.
“Very well.”
My father stepped down from the witness stand wearing the expression of a man who believed he’d just delivered the final blow.
