“Sweetheart,” she began.
I almost laughed.
She hadn’t called me that in years.
“Why don’t you come over for coffee? Just the two of us.”
I agreed.
When I arrived, Derek’s truck was already in the driveway.
My father opened the door without meeting my eyes.
On the kitchen table sat a typed document and a pen.
It was a release.
They wanted me to waive Grandpa’s conditions.
I didn’t sit down.
Instead, I placed the bank record beside the document.
“Mom, where did Grandpa’s $60,000 go?”
She looked uncomfortable.
“That money helped the family.”
“Grandpa authorized it for my bakery.”
She waved her hand.
“He signed the paperwork. I used it where it would do some good.”
I waited.
Finally, she sighed.
“Greta, your bakery was already struggling. Derek had a promising property purchase. I made a practical decision.”
I felt strangely calm.
“You decided that for Grandpa?”
