00 the next morning.
I wrote it on the back of a grocery receipt simply because my hands needed something to do.
“Margaret,” I said, “my mother filed a probate petition. She’s claiming Grandpa died without a will.”
There was a pause.
The kind that told me she already knew.
“We’ll discuss that tomorrow,” she said.
“Bring the cedar chest.”
I put down the phone.
Grandpa’s watch continued ticking on my nightstand, steady as a heartbeat belonging to no one living.
I packed a bag, placed the cedar chest in