Their smiles vanished.
“Yes,” Mom whispered.
Surprise!
“You buried him without telling me?”
“We were protecting you!”
“From saying goodbye to my father?”
Paige stepped forward. “Mom thought you couldn’t handle it.”
“You all attended his funeral?”
Is Dad dead?
Nobody answered.
“I wanted to tell you,” Dean said.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I tried after the funeral. Mom said she’d spoken to your doctors. She thought the shock could ruin your recovery.”
“And you believed her?”
You couldn’t handle it.
“We’d just lost Dad. I couldn’t bear losing you too.”
“So you let me keep calling him?”
Dean lowered his eyes. “At first, Mom said we’d tell you after your final scans.”
“And afterward?”
Silence.
The shock could ruin your recovery.
I turned to Mom. “You knew I was waiting for him.”
“I’m sorry, Nora.”
“No. You’re sorry I found out.”
I grabbed the letter from the table and walked outside, ignoring their calls.
My recovery party was ruined. But my family had something else to celebrate behind my back.
I couldn’t bear losing you.
The next morning, I went to the cemetery.
I carried Dad’s wooden bird.
I wasn’t ready to forgive my family. I just wanted a few minutes alone with Dad.
I found Dad’s headstone beneath a maple tree.
“Hey, Dad.”
Something else to celebrate behind my back.
My voice cracked.
“I did it. My scans are clear.”
I placed the bird beside his name.
“You promised we’d build something together.”
Footsteps approached.
I just wanted a few minutes alone with Dad.
Walter, Dad’s longtime friend, stood holding flowers.
“Your father would’ve been proud.”
“I wish I’d told him. I only learned yesterday he died.”
Walter froze. “Linda told everyone you couldn’t attend the funeral because of treatment.”
“She never told me about it.”
We’d build something together.
He sat beside me.
After a while, he asked: “Did Linda at least give you the keys?”
“What keys?”
“To the country house.”
“Why would she? That house belongs to my parents.”
I only learned yesterday he died.
“No, Nora. Your grandmother left it to Richard. It was his alone.”
I stared at him. “Dad used to talk about turning the barn into our workshop. But I thought he was just dreaming.”
Walter shook his head.
“Sounds like someone’s been keeping you in the dark. You need to speak to his attorney.”
I suddenly remembered the letter in my pocket.
Did Linda at least give you the keys?
I pulled it out, found the attorney’s number, and called before I could lose my nerve.
“Mr. Bennett? This is Nora, Richard’s daughter.”
“Nora! Finally. I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been sick.”
“Yes, your mother explained. She said you were too ill to handle any legal matters.”
You need to speak to his attorney.
I frowned. “I wanted to ask about Dad’s country house.”
“Your father left it to you. He wanted you to establish a woodworking studio there.”
“He WHAT?”
“Probate is still underway, so the property hasn’t been formally transferred yet.”
“Then who controls it?”
Dad’s country house.
“The estate’s executor is responsible for it until the process is complete.”
“And Mom knows all this?”
“She received a copy of the will over a month ago. She told us she’d informed you.”
“She didn’t.”
And something told me Mom hadn’t just kept the will from me.
I thanked him and hung up.
Your father left it to you.
Then I drove straight to the country house.
Paige’s SUV sat outside.
Cardboard boxes covered the porch. Two contractors were carrying flooring into the living room.
Paige emerged holding paint samples.
“Nora? What are you doing here?”
She’d informed you.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“We’re renovating.”
“Why?”
“Michael and I are moving in with the kids.”
I stared at her. “Who gave you permission?”
Cardboard boxes covered the porch.
“Mom.”
“This is my house.”
Paige laughed nervously. “What?”
“Dad left it to me.”
Her smile disappeared. “No. Mom said Dad wanted whoever needed it most to have it.”
We’re renovating.
“Have you read his will?”
“No.”
“I have spoken to his attorney.”
