She handed me a folder.
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For three years, I thought Mom and Dad had left us with nothing but grief and bills. But they had not been careless. They had been fighting for us right up until the day they died.
I looked up. "She called that stability?"
"Your father called it theft, my boy," Mrs. Dalrymple said.
***
For the next week, I stopped guessing and started proving. I called the courthouse, requested copies, and printed Mom's emails.
Then Ms. Hart, the social worker, called.
"Your father called it theft."
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"Rowan, your aunt filed for review."
"Of course she did."
"She says the house is unstable and you're refusing family support. That raises flags when kids are involved."
I looked at the sink full of dishes and the permission slips under a magnet.
"Good," I said.
"Good?"
"Yes. I have something for the judge."
