The rest of the settlement was almost anticlimactic, which is exactly how a settlement should be, and exactly what Solomon had been so certain it would not be.

My father’s house was never seriously in play; his own attorney told him plainly that he had no grounds, and it fell away.

The SUV stayed with me, and I bought out his small stake in it.

The joint savings were divided down the middle, strictly according to the bank records.

And Solomon made one last stand on the ground he had bragged about most — his supposed investment in the house, the money he had so often reminded me he’d poured into our home.

He produced his receipts: an outdoor grill, a set of patio furniture, an expensive television, some minor hardware.