She was wearing the same perfume she’d worn the year I married her son.

“You’ll give it up,” she said.

“Whatever Thomas Bellamy puts in front of you, you’ll sign it, and you’ll sign it before Friday.”

“I’m going to read it first.”

“There’s nothing in it worth reading.” She turned her rings one after another until the diamond sat straight once more.

“That money belonged to Walter.

It was meant to go to Spencer.

Everybody in this family understands that except you.”