She stood beneath the entrance lights wearing the diamond earrings Dad had given her for Christmas. Her brother, Grant, waited beside my suitcase.
“This house belongs to the surviving family,” she said.
“I am his family.”
“You were his obligation.”
Grant dropped my suitcase down the steps. It split against the stone, scattering clothes beside the rain-soaked remains of my mother.
I looked toward the upstairs window.
Dad’s reading lamp was still on.
“Let me get his watch.”
“Everything inside stays,” Celeste said. “Especially anything valuable.”
Blake moved his phone closer.
“Go on. Cry.”
I slowly stood.
My knees trembled, but I kept my voice steady.
“Did Dad leave a blue folder in his study?”
Celeste’s expression tightened.
“There is no folder.”
I hadn’t said what was inside it.
Grant stepped forward, his broad shoulders filling the doorway.
“You heard her.”
I picked up my mother’s broken urn and wrapped it in my sweater. Then I gathered my clothes one piece at a time.
