are you working on, Grandma?”
She looked up, offering a faint, gentle smile.
“I’m updating my final estate directives, Ivan.”
I paused, feeling a slight tightness in my chest.
“You don’t need to rush into that right now.”
“I’m not rushing, Ivan,” she said softly, capping the fountain pen and resting her hand on the journal. “I am simply putting things where they belong.”
She turned the journal toward me.
Written in her clear, elegant script were instructions directing the entire Sterling property—the house, the surrounding thirty acres, and the
