My Dad Started Charging Me $250 a Month for My Room When I Turned 18 — Five Years Later, After His Funeral, His Best Friend Handed Me a Box

“You’re not hanging the rest?”

I had a small stack of photographs on the worktable.

Frank with his bandmates.

Evelyn holding a wooden spoon in the kitchen, laughing at whoever had taken the picture.

A newspaper clipping about the band playing a packed hall in Cedar Falls.

“I haven’t decided.”

“That’s a fair answer.”

I picked up the photograph of Evelyn and carried it to the desk.