her way of telling me she disagreed but still loved me.
A moment later, Phil appeared outside.
He approached slowly, holding his reading glasses.
“Wade?”
I turned.
“I didn’t ask Dad for the farm,” he said.
“I know.”
“I had no idea he’d done this until Don called.”
“I believe you.”
Phil looked toward the pavement.
“I can’t understand why he’d leave everything this way.”
“Neither can I.”
He seemed about to say something else.
But he stopped.
Then he walked toward his car.
For months afterward, I remembered that
