But I said none of that.
“Susan asked to stay here.”
Greg laughed bitterly.
“She’s dying. She doesn’t know what she wants.”
By that evening, rumors were spreading through the neighborhood.
One person claimed I was convincing Susan to rewrite her will.
Someone else said I had manipulated her into believing her family had abandoned her.
Another neighbor told my friend Joel that Susan had already transferred her house into my name.
None of it was true.
Joel came over the following afternoon with groceries and placed the bags on my counter.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“Doing what?”
“Sam, come on. You’re cooking for her, helping her get around, waking up every few hours, dealing with her family, and now half the neighborhood thinks you’re trying to steal her money.”
“I don’t care what they think.”
“You should.”
I looked at him.
