Harold Pike had been Dad’s closest friend for four decades and had once owned the local funeral home. If Vanessa wanted the story to sound believable, Harold was exactly who she’d use.
“What happened?” I asked.
Vanessa sighed.
“Does it matter? He’s gone.”
Dad’s expression hardened.
She continued.
“Grant and I are taking care of everything. Don’t come to the house. We’re changing the locks this morning.”
Grant laughed somewhere in the background.
My brother-in-law had the kind of laugh that always sounded like he’d just gotten away with something.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“We found Dad’s papers. He left the house, his truck, the accounts, everything to me and Grant.”
Then she delivered the line she’d probably rehearsed for years.
“You were specifically excluded.”
Grant grabbed the phone.
“You’re finally out of the family, Natalie.”
Dad carefully set his coffee mug onto the table.
The soft click of ceramic against wood unsettled me more than shouting ever could.
Grant kept talking.
“No more flying in every few months and pretending you’re the devoted daughter.”
I stayed silent.
Dad leaned closer to the phone.
“Vanessa.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Dad spoke again, calm and steady.
“That’s interesting, because I don’t remember dying.”
I heard Grant whisper,
“What the hell?”
Vanessa’s voice cracked.
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I agree.”
His tone turned colder.
“Especially the part about dividing my property.”
Vanessa began stumbling over her words.
“We—we were told—”
“By whom?”
Nothing.
Dad looked at me.
