My brothers were already there.
Michael, the oldest, stood by the counter with his phone in his hand. Daniel stayed near the back door in his work jacket, looking tired from the small repair shop he had opened months earlier.
Dad placed a manila envelope on the kitchen table.
He rested his palm on top of it.
“I need to show you something,” he said.
His voice sounded thin.
That frightened me more than the envelope.
Inside was a debt notice.
The top page said $2,160,000.
The number looked unreal, like something from a life much larger than ours. But Dad’s name was on every page. The lender’s letterhead. The repayment schedule. The late fees. The county clerk stamp. His signature.
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