“You quietly helped him put the deed in his name four years ago.”

Martha turned away from me and started walking toward the side garden gate.

“I’m making a pot roast for Sunday dinner,” she called back over her shoulder.

“You ought to come by and make peace with your brother.”

The heavy wooden gate latched shut behind her.

I stood by myself in the humid gravel driveway and looked back at the house.

Glenn was standing in the open doorway with the heavy cordless drill in his hand.