A pause. She could always hear the things I did not say.
“I remember.”
“Is it still on the table?”
Another pause, shorter this time.
“For you, sweetheart, it’s always on the table. What’s happened?”
I looked at the framed wedding photo I had walked past a thousand times without really seeing.
“I have fourteen days,” I said. “And I need to talk to a lawyer in the morning.”
The morning after I found the missing money, I sat across a polished desk from Nathan Pierce, the family attorney my father had used for thirty years.
“Walk me through it again,” I said.
Nathan pulled one page from the stack.
Nathan didn’t answer immediately. He flipped through the stack one page at a time, stopping twice before pulling a single document free.
This is a quitclaim rider.
“Rachel…” He turned it toward me. “Did you ever actually look at everything David signed?”
