We crossed her south fence through an old gate.
The property was mostly scrub.
Young pines.
Blackberry.
A creek.
Three neglected pecan trees.
Ruth used her thumbnail to scrape the bark of one.
Green underneath.
She smiled.
“See?”
I laughed through tears.
“Still alive.”
“Usually takes people longer than trees to notice.”
That was Ruth.
No speech.
Knife straight to the bone.
I decided not to sell.
Not yet.
For once, I did not need to decide immediately.
The legal case dragged on.
Then Mom requested a meeting through her lawyer.
I said no twice.
The third time, I agreed on one condition.
Ruth came.
Mom looked horrified when she walked into Mara's conference room.
“Why is she here?”
Ruth pulled out a chair.
“Because Stacey asked.”
Mom fell silent.
That alone was worth it.
Dad came too.
He looked smaller.
Not physically.
In authority.
For most of my life, Carl Benton could make the house change temperature by clearing his throat.
