it.
Meanwhile, my family grew careless.
Dad told contractors I was “mentally unstable.” Mother informed church friends that I’d entrusted them with the memorial fund. Vanessa appeared on a local morning program wearing pearl earrings and a pale pink dress.
“We’re trying to preserve my sister’s family home,” she said, wiping her eyes. “She’s too lost in grief to make decisions.”
The host squeezed her hand sympathetically.
I watched from my kitchen table.
Then my lawyer called.
“The state auditor wants to move,” she said. “The district attorney too. But
