My Parents Threw Me Out on Christmas—Then the Bank Saw Grandpa’s Box
I’m sorry I called you a loser.”
I smiled faintly.
“That was one of the nicer things you said that morning.”
She covered her face.
“Oh God.”
“I was awful.”
“Yes.”
“Can you stop agreeing so quickly?”
“No.”
She laughed.
So did I.
We did not become close overnight.
But the conversation was honest.
That was enough.
One year after becoming board chair, I returned to Silvermere Lake.
Henry had owned a small lodge there.
Nothing grand.
Wood walls.
Stone fireplace.
Old dock.
He used to take me there when I was a child.
The mahogany box sat on the coffee table.
