My mother laughed at Grandpa’s funeral lunch and said, “Even your grandfather knew which one of you was the failure.”

If you’re reading this, Greta, it means I ran out of Saturdays.

I covered my face.

For nearly three years, I’d believed Grandpa was disappointed in me.

Meanwhile, he’d been working quietly to give me another chance.

His final words read:

Whatever anyone tells you, I never stopped believing in your hands.

I sat there for a long time.

Then I noticed one more document.

It concerned Derek’s inheritance.

The house hadn’t simply been left to my brother.

Grandpa had placed two conditions on it.

Within ninety days, Derek had to restore the $60,000 intended for me.

And both Derek and my mother had to sign a written acknowledgment explaining where the money had gone.

If they failed, the house would be sold according to Grandpa’s instructions.

I also had the authority to release them from those conditions.

Grandpa had left my family an opportunity to make things right.