George Brought a Sealed Legal Folder to His Son’s Wedding in an Atlanta Hotel

“No,” I said.

Brenda stopped writing and looked up.

“We won’t publish them,” I said.

“Let Douglas manage his remaining lumber yard without our interference.”

“Are you absolutely certain?” Brenda asked.

“I’m certain,” I said.

“I’m choosing quiet dignity over revenge.”

Brenda nodded and clicked her fountain pen closed.