My grandfather’s initials would have been A.

Thorne as well, which I thought about for a second and then dismissed, because Arthur Thorne had been dead for twenty-one years.

A.

Thorne, Trustee.

Agnes.

She had not spent one dollar of her own money on that gift.

She had bought my son a three-hundred-and-eighty-dollar drafting set out of my son’s own trust, and handed it to him across a mahogany table in dark green paper, and put her hand in his hair.

And then she had taken me into a dark hallway and offered to educate him in exchange for my silence about the very fund she had just charged it to.