Judge Morrison reviewed his notes.
He asked several final questions about the execution of the will and the evidence that had been admitted.
Mr. Bennett answered the questions directed to him.
Whitman addressed the court’s remaining procedural concerns.
Then the judge called a short recess.
I stayed seated as my parents left the courtroom with their attorney.
The moment the door closed, I felt the exhaustion I’d been holding back all morning.
My shoulders ached.
My mouth was dry.
I looked at the three folders.
For weeks, they’d occupied my dining table.
For weeks, I’d organized every record around allegations I never imagined my parents would make.
Now there was nothing left to prepare.
No additional question to anticipate.
No document to rearrange.
I had done what I could.
I reached into the third folder and took out Nana’s letter.
I didn’t unfold it.
