Monday morning, Tiffany set the rental agreement on the table again and tapped it with a manicured finger. “Well?” she said. I slid a different envelope across to her. “Open it.” She tore it open, and her smile slowly died. It was a notice, signed by my attorney, Mr. Delgado, giving her and Gregory thirty days to vacate. Gregory’s face went gray. “Mom, you can’t be serious,” he whispered.

Tiffany laughed, but it cracked. “This is a bluff. Gregory will inherit this house.” I took out the deed and placed it beside the notice. “Read the name,” I said. Her eyes dropped, and her lips moved silently. Then she looked up, white as paper. Behind her, the doorbell rang, and through the window I saw a realtor in a navy blazer holding a SOLD-ready sign.