“Along with the power of attorney. You’ll find it’s very good work. She had years to practice.”

Chapter 12 — Oakridge

“Let’s talk about Oakridge,” I said, and the quiet in my voice did more than any shout could have.

My father blinked. “What does the house have to do with any of this?”

I took a second document out of the folder — a yellowed, handwritten letter, with a fresh notary seal fixed to the bottom of it.

“Do you remember November of 2013, Dad? The night after Grandma’s funeral. You got drunk on that whiskey and announced that whichever of your daughters kept her family together the longest would inherit Oakridge.”

My father’s mouth opened.