When my grandmother Grace passed away, I was sure I’d been forgotten.
At the will reading, my mother practically lunged for the house before the lawyer even finished the address. My sister Cynthia snatched the car keys as though they had always been hers. Everyone left with something shiny, enviable—something worth boasting about.
Then the lawyer turned to me, offering a thin package with a gentle, pitying smile that made my stomach twist.