I remembered measuring the cemetery plot with Richard, choosing a plain wooden coffin because Grandpa had asked for one, and standing in the church while neighbors described what he’d meant to them.

None of the three people now trying to claim his house had helped arrange any of it.

Mom cleared her throat.

“Nobody told us the funeral arrangements.”

“I sent the information to the last address Richard had for you,” I said.

“You were there yesterday.

You stayed near the back.”

“We had a long drive,” she said.