My late father’s cufflinks. A ring. Vintage lighters—family keepsakes.
“What do you expect me to do with these?” I asked.
Kelly shrugged. “Figure it out. Sell them. And get a good price.”
I felt sick.
Those weren’t hers.
Those weren’t even mine, really—they were my father’s memory.
But she wanted me to turn grief into cash so she could go have fun.
I took the bag straight to Larry.
“This is your father’s stuff,” I said, voice shaking. “Your sister wants to sell it.”
Larry’s face went blank.
He didn’t fight. He didn’t question her.
He took the bag and muttered, “I’ll handle it.”
He didn’t handle anything.
He never handled anything.
He only avoided.
And around the same time…
I found out he was probably seeing someone else.
A friend from another agency saw him downtown on a weekend—arm in arm with a young woman dressed like she belonged in a nightlife commercial.
I confronted him the second he walked in.
“I work all week,” I snapped. “I work weekends. I do everything in this house, and you’re out with someone else?”
Larry’s face flushed.
“It’s not like that,” he muttered. “She’s just… from a massage place.”
I stared at him.
“How is that better?”