At my father’s funeral, my brothers stood beside his coffin and mocked the black dress I had borrowed. “Dad left everything to us,” the oldest whispered. “You’ll leave here with nothing.”

My oldest brother, Grant, leaned in close enough for me to smell the expensive bourbon on his breath. “Dad left everything to us,” he whispered. “The company, the houses, the accounts. You’ll leave here with nothing.”

Beside him, Owen smirked. “Maybe the funeral home needs a receptionist.”

They expected me to cry.

I didn’t.

I placed the rose on Dad’s chest and said, “That’s strange, because he called me three hours before he died.” Familyhistory research

Grant’s smile faltered.

Only briefly.

Then he gave a small laugh and straightened his silk tie. “He was delirious.”