My parents sued me for the four point seven million dollars my grandmother left me, and to prove I was unstable their own attorney subpoenaed my service record and put it in front of the judge himself. He had read two pages of a hundred and forty. That is how my family found out what I do for a living.

She told nobody. Not her son. Not her daughter-in-law. Not me.

Sowell Brink's attendance note from the first appointment is one of the exhibits and I have read it perhaps thirty times.

It is four paragraphs of a careful man writing down what a client said, and there is one line in it that I would like on a wall somewhere.

Client instructed that she does not wish the matter of the 2019 transfers pursued during her lifetime. Asked whether she wished to discuss this with family. Declined. Stated she would rather have three more years of Sundays.

Three more years of Sundays.

She kept having them over. My parents went to that house on Colliers Row for lunch most Sundays for the next two and a half years, and she cooked, and she asked after the business, and she knew exactly what they had done and exactly what she had already done about it.