“I just go along with her sometimes,” he admitted, staring at the gravel. “It’s easier.”

“That’s how a lot of damage gets done.”

He gave a small nod. “I know.” Then he returned to the SUV.

As the dust settled across the drive, I felt something I hadn’t in nine years. Not happiness, and not quite relief. Just the plain satisfaction of standing upright without apologizing for taking up space.

Still, I knew my daughter. Rebecca was not a woman who accepted one refusal and walked away. Not with a lake house at stake.

Chapter 5 — Eleanor Knew

Three days later, I found Eleanor’s first letter. I was sorting through the rolltop desk in her study, trying to make sense of the bait-shop records, when I noticed a plain envelope wedged behind an insurance folder.