Dad did not.
Vanessa then informed me that she would box up whatever was left in my childhood bedroom and have Grant leave it near the garage.
Grant took over again.
“Don’t make this difficult. Don’t challenge the will or demand things that aren’t yours. Vanessa stayed close to home. She deserves this.”
I looked through the kitchen window at frost whitening the backyard.
“You made your choice years ago,” Grant continued.
Then he said the one thing that changed Dad’s face completely.
“Your father obviously knew who really loved him.”
Dad went perfectly still.
I reached for the phone, ready to end the call.
He raised one hand.
Stop.
Then he pointed toward himself.
I hesitated.
He pointed again.
Vanessa’s voice sharpened.
“Natalie? Are you still there?”
“Oh, I’m here.”
“Good. Then understand this clearly. Dad made his decision. Everything belongs to Grant and me now.”
Grant laughed again.
“Finally.”
Dad stood.
He tightened the belt of his robe and walked around the kitchen table.
Vanessa was still talking about funeral arrangements, property, accounts, and everything she believed she had inherited from the man now standing beside me.
Dad bent toward the speakerphone.
Grant was still laughing when my father finally spoke.
“Interesting.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The car noise remained in the background, but Vanessa said nothing.
Grant said nothing.
Dad leaned a little closer.
“Tell me more about my funeral.”
There was a sharp sound from Vanessa’s end.
Maybe a hand hitting the dashboard.
Maybe the phone slipping.
Then she whispered, “Dad?”
He looked at me.
I had not seen that expression on his face since I was a teenager and had once backed his truck into the mailbox.
Not rage.
Worse.
Disappointment sharpened into something very deliberate.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
Vanessa inhaled so hard the sound came through the speaker.
“You’re alive.”
“Apparently.”
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