“That’s okay.”
“You don’t care what I think?”
“About my property?”
She inhaled.
“Ian—”
“I love you, Aunt Rebecca. But no.”
I ended the call politely.
That became the pattern.
Cousins.
Family friends.
My parents’ neighbors.
People who had not contributed one dollar toward the house suddenly became constitutional scholars specializing in inheritance law.
Most used some variation of the same argument.
But they’re family.
What I found fascinating was how rarely anyone used that argument when discussing Clare.
Apparently my pregnant wife was not family enough to deserve a chair.
But my sister was family enough to deserve a free house.
On Wednesday, Melissa finally got access for photographs.
Nathan arranged it.
My parents were informed that refusing reasonable access would only complicate matters.
Tessa left before the photographer arrived.
Dad stayed.
According to Melissa, he followed the photographer from room to room with his arms crossed.
