He owed thousands on his credit cards, but he always acted rich around our father.

“Hey, at least you got the memories of her baking,” Dustin said.

“Those are priceless, right?

Maybe you can pay your rent with snickerdoodles next month.”

They climbed into their spotless cars and drove out through the wrought-iron gates.

I stood alone on the cemetery path, listening to their tires crunch on the wet gravel.

I didn’t walk to my Buick.

I turned around and walked back across the huge lawn toward Beatrice’s plot.