On the porch stood a silver-haired man in a charcoal suit, holding a leather briefcase. Marjorie’s hand flew to her pearls. “Mr. Delgado,” she breathed. “It is my birthday. What are you doing here?” He gave a polite nod to the guests and looked at the two plastic-wrapped chairs. “Ethan called me an hour ago,” he said. “He asked me to bring your father’s will, since I believe you have forgotten what it says.”

Ethan took Piper’s hand and guided her to a bare chair beside his own. Marjorie started to protest, but Mr. Delgado opened the briefcase and removed a thick envelope sealed with red wax. “Before anyone eats, I will read the clause about this house,” he said. The room went so quiet that I heard the clock ticking. Marjorie sank into her seat, whispering, “You cannot do this tonight.”