So I’d come on Thursdays, when he worked from home, and witness his signatures and notarize the trust documents.” She looked stricken.
“I gave Sammy stickers so he wouldn’t tell you about the — his words — the magic gold-seal papers.”
I could not speak.
Because Yara had no idea what she was actually saying to me.
To her, the Sebago cabin was a line item in a title transfer, a property on a lake in Maine, a job.
To me it was the center of my entire childhood.