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

“She only passed away three weeks ago,” I said.

Pamela folded the sweater neatly and dropped it into a blue bin.

“Your father wants a clean slate to work with,” Pamela said.

“We’re clearing out this whole half of the house to build a custom wine-tasting room.”

I dug my fingernails into my palms.

“Did he tell you to sell absolutely everything?

Did he clear the personal boxes?”

“Everything must gooo,” Pamela said.