the black sweater I had slept in beside Dad’s hospital bed. His watch rested in my coat pocket because a nurse had handed it to me after they stopped the machines.
I still couldn’t say the word dead without feeling something inside me break.
So I looked at Vivian and said, “Okay.”
She mistook exhaustion for surrender.
What she didn’t know was that three hours earlier, Dad’s attorney, Samuel Price, had taken me into a private hospital conference room and asked me to sign two receipts.
The first acknowledged an
