“The July draft isn’t the will.

The will is the will.”

Arthur’s thumb stopped on his ring.

Evelyn asked whether the money could be split in a way that matched the family’s expectations, and she smoothed both lapels of her jacket, first one, then the other.

“That’s a question for another day,” Marcus said, and closed the folder.

“How fast it can move once probate opens is another day too.”

No one in that room looked at me.