PART 3 Grant came back onto the phone. “Dad, this isn’t funny.”
Dad smiled faintly. “I agree.”
His smile disappeared. “It isn’t.”
Vanessa’s breathing became audible.
“Dad, we got the paperwork.”
“I know.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly.”
Dad picked up his coffee again.
“You two called my daughter at six-thirty in the morning and told her I was dead.”
Neither of them answered.
Dad took a sip.
“Then you told her my house belonged to you.”
Still nothing.
“You told her my truck belonged to you. My accounts. My belongings. You told her she wasn’t welcome in her childhood home anymore.”
His voice remained remarkably calm.
“And then you told her I had specifically excluded her from my will.”
Grant finally said, “Dad, we thought—”
“No.”
Dad cut him off.
“You didn’t think.”
The word landed heavily.
“You assumed.”
Vanessa started crying.
But Dad wasn’t moved.
“Where are you?” he asked.
Vanessa hesitated.
“At the house.”
“Of course you are.”
Dad leaned back.
“How did you get inside?”
“We have keys.”
“You have keys to the front door.”
Vanessa said nothing.
Dad nodded slowly.
“So you didn’t break in.”
“No.”
“Good.”
He glanced at me.
“That saves me one phone call.”
I had no idea what he meant.
Neither did Vanessa.
“What phone call?” she asked.
“To the sheriff.”
Silence.
