When my grandmother Grace passed, I walked into the will reading expecting very little. In our family, the loudest voices and the quickest hands always walked away with the treasures. That morning was no different.
Before the lawyer even finished reading the address on the deed, my mother rushed forward as though claiming a prize. My sister, Cynthia, snatched the car keys with the confidence of someone certain she deserved them. Within minutes, the table was bare—rings, furniture lists, jewelry, and bank documents all swept into eager hands.
The lawyer reached for a thin package and offered it to me with a soft, sympathetic smile. The kind of smile people give when they believe you’ve been overlooked.
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