After my grandpa’s funeral, I didn’t tell my parents that he had left me $20M; I’m glad I kept it a secret, because a week later, what he revealed about their past… shocked me to the core.

It’s distance.

Some doors close quietly.

Linda and I have a restraining order.

Some doors need locks.

Mrs. Bowden attended the foundation opening.

She brought a lattice-top peach pie and wore the same church dress she had worn to court.

She stood in Grandpa’s workshop looking at eight students seated in folding chairs.

“Your grandfather would be proud.”

I smiled.

“He’d say I overworked the budget.”

Grandpa’s pocket watch sits on my desk now.

Sterling silver.

Worn smooth.

Beside it, on the shelf, is the cedar chest.

The workshop smells