Commander Evelyn Carter Came Home to Find Her Own Parents Suing Her for the Farmhouse

“We don’t have to be enemies, Evelyn,” she said, pulling a folded paper napkin from her sleeve to dab her eyes.

“You’ve been home three months and you’ve barely said ten words to your father.”

“I talked to him when he brought the roof clipboard to the front porch last week,” I said.

My father pulled out a heavy pine chair and sat down at the head of the oak table.

“That was a routine land assessment.”

“It was an inspection for the court filing,” I said.

My mother sat down next to him, smoothing her knit skirt over her knees.