My Uncle Jack laughed under his breath. “A nurse? You could’ve done better. Tom owns a car business. Alice runs several beauty salons. Nursing won’t get you far.”
“I help people,” I said quietly. “That’s enough for me.”
My mother, arms crossed, added in a cold mutter, “Can’t believe I raised someone with no ambition.”
Our relationship had been tense for years. Three awkward phone calls a year — birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas — and even those felt like obligations, not conversations.
The lawyer arrived — and everything exploded
Mr. Johnson, Grandma’s long-time attorney, stepped inside carrying a briefcase.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t take a seat. His face was unreadable.
“I won’t take much of your time,” he began. “Cassandra’s will is short.”
“What do you mean short?” my mother snapped.
“Cassandra has not left any inheritance to any of you.”
The room erupted instantly.
Aunt Florence shouted, “That can’t be right!” Continue reading…
