He’s buying back your grandfather’s lake cabin.
The one on Sebago.
The one your family had to sell after your grandfather passed.”
Every drop of blood in my body seemed to change direction at once.
“He needed a notary who could come to the house,” she hurried on, “because he couldn’t have the title company mailing things to your address, or moving money through any account you’d see.
He didn’t want you finding out by accident.