Chapter 6: The Last Page

I stood up, went to the kitchen, and heated up the leftovers from lunch. After taking a couple of bites, I washed the bowl. It was the third day after the funeral. Thomas hadn't left yet, and Chloe was still here, too. I knew exactly what they were waiting for: to divide up Dad's belongings.

Ma knew it too, but she hadn't mentioned anything about a will because she didn't know one existed. She only found out after I called and told her that the lawyer had notified me. My dad—the honest man she always claimed listened to her about everything—had hired a lawyer and drafted a will behind her back.

"When did this happen?" she asked at the dinner table the night after the funeral.

Thomas chimed in, "Don't worry, Ma. It's good to have a lawyer involved so things don't get messy later." What he really meant was that legal procedures were better, since he assumed everything would be divided among us anyway.

Chloe didn't say a word, but she gave me a complicated look, as if trying to figure out whether I knew something they didn't.

I did know something. Dad's notebook was sitting right in my bag, though I hadn't opened the letter yet. He had written "For Clara" on the envelope, and I wanted to wait until the will was read before opening it. Maybe the letter had something to do with the will, or maybe it didn't. Either way, it was something Dad had left just for me.

Over the past fifteen years, the things this family had given me could be counted on one hand: a cash gift of two thousand dollars, a few Christmas Eve dinners, countless times being told to move out of the way, and a folding chair always pushed to the very edge of the room. Now, there was an extra tin box, which I had taken with me before riding the bus home.

Now, the day of the will reading had finally arrived. Marcus finished reading the first three items: the house went to Thomas, the savings went to Chloe, and the jewelry and cash went to Ma.

There were no surprises in the room. I sat on my folding chair with a calm expression, because this was exactly what I had expected. For fifteen years, there had never been a share for me.

Thomas stood up, ready to shake the lawyer's hand. "Thank you, Marcus. I guess we'll just—"

"I haven't finished reading," Marcus interrupted, turning past the third page. "There is one last page, mainly concerning Clara."