My Father Froze in the Doorway, Still Wearing the Old Gray Sweatshirt That Made Him Look Practical and Hardworking

briefcase with a quiet click. “I’m here at my client’s request.”

My mother’s coffee cup trembled slightly. “Client? Miranda, sweetheart, you’re drugged. You can’t be signing anything in this condition.”

“I’m not drugged enough to forget nine calls,” I said.

Lauren rolled her eyes so hard I could see it from across the room. “Oh my God. Are we really doing continue reading …