Clara found a forged receipt for forty thousand dollars

over the tea kettle. My sister Martha had been gone only three weeks, and her lakeside cottage was supposed to be the permanent home for Gary’s plant nursery.

“Friday,” I repeated softly. “Friday.”

Gary cracked his knuckles, the sharp sound echoing off the linoleum. “He said the estate cash is locked up in probate, and we need to liquidate assets to continue reading …