Eleven Years of Eating Lunch by a Window in Columbus, Ohio, Ended With a Box I Never Expected

The envelope was thin.

I didn’t open it at the table.

“Charlotte.” She said my name and then stopped, which wasn’t like her.

“The trust has to name a successor trustee.

If anything happens to you, the whole thing goes to the county and sits in a drawer.”

“Liam drew up the papers.”

“Liam drew them up for Charles.

Charles is gone.” She pushed in her chair.