confirm it.”
“No,” he insisted. “I mean I’m sure.”
He retrieved a metal tin from under his bed. It held tax receipts, insurance paperwork, old photographs and yellowing envelopes.
“The deed Derek knows about is in the filing cabinet,” Dad explained. “A copy.”
“And the original?”
He raised the rusty key, prompting me to examine it again.
“What does that have to do with the original?”
Dad got to his feet.
“Come with me.”
Mom stood at once.
“Manuel.”
“It’s time.”
After studying both of us, she gave a resigned
