My Father Tossed a Blue Savings Passbook into the Mud at Cedar Ridge

If the account was empty and had been closed ten years ago, there was no reason a probate judge would care about it today.

He had just contradicted his own forged letter.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

“Don’t think too long,” Gregory said.

He stepped out onto the wooden porch and pulled his coat tight against the wind.

“Keep the check, Samantha.

Go buy a car.”

I shut the door and slid the heavy wooden chair under the handle.