The man in the gray suit stepped forward and extended his hand.
“Daniel Kramer. Estate attorney for Eleanor Whitaker.”
I shook his hand automatically, though my attention kept drifting toward the closed hospital room behind them.
“Can I see her?” I asked.
My father hesitated.
Then he stepped aside with visible reluctance.
“Make it quick.”
The Room
The hospital room smelled faintly of antiseptic and lavender lotion.
Grandma Eleanor lay peacefully in the bed, her silver hair brushed neatly across the pillow.
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