“She has no business being in that house!” Gene shouted, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet neighborhood.

Two women standing by the mailboxes down the block stopped to watch.

“This woman is an extortionist preying on a dying man’s family!

She’s been manipulating my niece ever since Frank went into hospice!”

The sharp sting of humiliation hit me as Mrs.

Gable from number 410 came out onto her porch to stare across the grass.

“Uncle Gene, stop shouting,” I said, pushing open the screen door and stepping out onto the top porch step.

“The whole street can hear you.”