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

Arthur picked up the passbook and traced the faded red circle with his thumb.

A small smile appeared on his face.

“Your grandmother was the bravest woman I ever represented,” Arthur said.

“We spent two brutal years in court securing this account.”

“My father says it’s empty,” I said.

“He showed me a letter last night.”

“Gregory has always been a remarkably convincing liar,” Arthur said.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the forged letter Gregory had given me at the diner, and handed it across the desk.