Chapter 3
I went to the memorial room first. The old house still had the same front parlor, and now my father's portrait sat on a table draped in white cloth.
The photo was black-and-white, and he looked so much thinner than I remembered.
I stood in the doorway but didn't go in.
"Well, well." Susan's voice drifted out from inside.
She was standing next to the memorial table with a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She had put on weight, dyed her hair brown, and her gold earrings caught the light every time she moved. "Lila, you're back?"
She looked me up and down. "Twenty years and you're skin and bones."
I didn't respond. I walked in, laid a small bunch of white roses beside my father's portrait, and stood there for a moment with my head bowed.
When I straightened up, John walked in.
He had aged. Half his hair had gone white, and his back had started to curve. He looked at me and said, "You made it."
"Yeah," I said. "I made it."
Two short sentences, and we sounded like strangers.
Susan let out a small laugh from the side.
She said, "Lila, it's good you're here. Just sign some papers tomorrow and you're done. Don't worry about anything else."
"Sign what papers?" I asked.
Susan glanced at John.
"We'll talk about it at the notary office tomorrow," he said.
I said, "Fine," and turned to leave.
"Lila." Susan stopped me. "When we were cleaning out the house, we set aside a bag of your mom's things. You want it?"
She pulled a black trash bag from the corner. "If not, I'll just toss it."
I took the bag and carried it back to the motel, but I didn't open it until I sat down on the bed.
Inside were a few old pieces of clothing, a pair of worn-out slippers, and a ceramic mug with the word "BEST" in red. Half the paint had chipped away.
All of it had been Grace's.
At the very bottom, I found a floral quilted coat. It was identical to the one I had brought with me.
No. Not identical. It was cut from the same fabric.
Grace had made two coats from the same cloth years ago. She gave one to me and kept the other for herself.
I laid the two coats side by side on the bed.
The one she had kept was more worn at the cuffs, and one of the buttons at the collar had broken off and been held together with thread.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at them for a long time.
Was this the coat she was wearing three years ago, when she passed?
I didn't know.
I didn't know anything at all.
*****
The next morning at ten, we gathered at the notary's office. The room was small, with a long table in the center and two rows of chairs.
The attorney's name was Oliver Langley. He looked to be in his early forties, wearing glasses, and a manila envelope sat on the table in front of him.
John sat in the front row with Susan beside him.
Ivan was in the back row, scrolling through his phone, and Helen sat off to the side, chewing gum. Two of the family elders had also shown up—my uncles Edward and David.
I walked in and sat down in the last row.
Susan turned around and glanced at me. "Why are you sitting all the way back there? You're family."
I didn't move.
Oliver cleared his throat. "The last will and testament of Mr. Richard Carter has been certified by this office. I will now read it aloud."
He opened the envelope and pulled out three sheets of paper. "Item one: the residential property located at 17 Carter Village."
John sat up straight, and Susan's hand froze over her pistachios.
"The property is registered under three co-owners: Richard, John, and Lila."
Susan whipped around to stare at me.
I kept my face blank.
"The testator, Richard, has allocated his share as follows: sixty percent to John and forty percent to Ivan."
John let out a breath. Ivan looked up, did the math in his head, and said nothing.
Oliver continued, "Item two: regarding the land acquisition compensation for the property at 17 Carter Village."
The room went quiet.
"The property has been included in the 2026 acquisition plan, with an estimated total compensation of 700 thousand dollars."
Susan's mouth fell open.
John leaned forward in his chair.
Ivan put his phone down.
Oliver said, "According to the co-ownership registration, Lila holds a one-third share of the property."
Susan slammed her hand on the table. "One-third? She was kicked out of this family!"
Oliver adjusted his glasses. "The family Bible isn't a legal document. What matters is whose name is on the property deed, and that's what holds up in court."
He glanced at Susan. "In other words, any compensation from the acquisition requires the signature of every co-owner on record."
The room went silent. John slowly turned his head and looked at me. Susan looked at me, too, and so did Ivan. Every single person in that room was staring at me.
I knew that look all too well. Twenty years ago, they had looked at me the exact same way.
Only back then, they were watching me get thrown out.
This time, they were realizing they needed me.
"There's one more thing." Oliver flipped to the third page. "The deceased left a sealed letter, addressed specifically to Lila. Its contents are not part of the public reading."
He slid a small envelope to the center of the table. "Ms. Lila Carter?"
I stood up, walked to the table, and picked up the envelope, but I didn't open it.
Susan stared at it as if it were a ticking bomb. "What letter? Why wasn't it read out loud?"
"Those were the deceased's instructions," Oliver said.
I tucked the envelope into my bag and gave John a look. "Seven hundred thousand dollars. One-third of that is two hundred and thirty-three thousand."
John said nothing.
"I'm heading out." I turned and walked away.
Behind me, Susan's voice rang out. "What does she think she's doing? She thinks she's getting two hundred and thirty-three thousand dollars? In her dreams!"
Back at the motel, I opened my laptop, but not because of the 233 thousand dollars.
I wanted to know something else. Twenty years ago, I should have had 30 thousand dollars as my wedding gift. I needed to find out where that money actually went.