People in town are talking, Evelyn.”

She reached into her black leather handbag and took out a folded blue legal document.

She slid it across the Formica until the corner rested against my clean paper napkin.

“What is this?” I asked.

“It’s a quitclaim deed,” Margaret said softly.

“Just sign the release, Evelyn, and we can end this without any public embarrassment.”

I looked down at the dark print on the blue paper.

My father’s name was typed in bold letters across the main grantee line.