Twelve days later, Vivian rang my doorbell.
She arrived in pearls, perfume, and entitlement. Derek stood behind her, holding a stuffed bear with the price tag still attached.
Vivian smiled as though the funeral had never happened.
“I’ve come to see my grandchild.”
I looked at her. Then at Derek. Then at the blinking security camera above my door.
“Which grandchild?”
Her smile faltered.
Derek frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I opened the door just enough for them to see my lawyer seated at my dining table, three folders in front of her, a silver pen, and a face carved from stone.
“It means,” I said quietly, “you should have been kinder in the rain.”….
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