My Parents Left Grandma at a Nursing Facility—Then a Brown Suitcase Led Us to the Deed Recorded in My Father’s Name

There’s no reason for it to sit by the door anymore.”

I moved a box of Christmas cards and lifted the case.

Its bottom caught against the shelf edge, so I raised it a little and slid it farther back.

The closet door shut without trouble.

Eleanor pointed to the box of cards.

My grandfather had kept train tickets there, promising for years that he would sort them.

She had kept one from a Cleveland trip because he had written the price of lunch on the back.

“Fourteen dollars?” I asked.