He boarded the two side windows in the fall of 2019. He replaced the original hasp with a heavy one. He carried the only key on his ring with his truck keys and his house keys.
Every time I asked what was in it — and I asked probably nine times over five years — he gave me the exact same answer.
“Not yet, Chloe.”
What the Attorney Said in the Living Room
Ms. Richards called Aunt Sandy, Uncle Nolan, Sadie, Greg, and me into a loose half circle.
“Byron named each of you specifically. All five have to be present.”
“For Chloe to open a garage?” Greg said.
“For Chloe to open that garage.”
“Why her?”
“Because that was your father’s decision.”
Greg laughed, short.
“Dad always did like making everybody work for an answer.”
Ms. Richards did not smile at that. Not even slightly.
“Chloe unlocks the door and enters first. Nobody crosses that threshold without her permission. Those are the terms and I’m going to hold to them.”
She put the key in my hand.
The Phone He Raised in the Driveway
Everybody came outside. Relatives lined up along the drive and spread out onto the grass — twenty, maybe twenty-two people.
Aunt Sandy squeezed my arm.
“We’re right here, sweetheart.”
And Greg stepped up beside me and raised his phone.
“Let’s see what Dad left us.”
He put his other arm around my shoulders.
The arm was familiar. I’d had that arm around me at two funerals.
The camera was not.
“Put it away.”
“I’m recording it for everyone.”
“I don’t want this recorded, Greg.”
I stepped out from under his arm, and for about a quarter of a second something moved across his face that I had never seen there before.
Then he lowered the phone. He did not put it in his pocket.
Getting the Door Open
The key stuck.
I pulled it back out, checked it, and tried again, and my hands were doing something.
“What comes next?” Joshua said behind me.
