Because for one stupid second, the tiny girl inside me wanted to run to him and ask him to fix it.
But he was the thing that needed fixing.
Grandma helped me toward the door.
Behind us, Valerie’s voice rose.
“You think you won? You think some dusty letter ruins me? That house is Jack’s. The accounts are Jack’s. The wedding is happening.”
Grandma paused with her hand on the doorknob.
Then she turned back.
“No, Valerie. The house is Chloe’s.”
Dad whispered, “Eleanor.”
Grandma smiled.
“Sarah transferred it into trust six months before she died. Jack has temporary occupancy only until Chloe turns twenty-one or until he remarries. Whichever comes first.”
Valerie stared at Dad.
“What?”
Dad’s silence answered her.
Grandma continued.
“And if he attempts to marry you, cohabitate with you as a spouse, or use trust assets for personal benefit, he forfeits occupancy immediately.”
Valerie’s face changed again.
Not anger now.
Calculation.
She looked at Dad as if she had just discovered he was poorer than advertised.
“You told me the house was yours.”
Dad swallowed.
“It is my home.”
“That is not what I asked.”
He didn’t answer.
Valerie laughed once.
A small, vicious sound.