Mr. Blackwood stepped into the aisle and said in his smooth courtroom voice, “Since the matter has been raised publicly, let me add for the sake of accuracy that California community property does not extend to inherited assets protected by trust and affirmed by prenuptial agreement.”
Becca stared at Grant. “Prenup?”
Oh, she truly hadn’t known. That was almost beautiful.
Grant swung toward Blackwood. “You can’t do this in a church.”
“My late client requested it be read before witnesses,” Blackwood said. “And since you chose to stage your own personal disaster in the front pew, the setting appears unusually appropriate.”
There are some moments in life when even grief has to step aside for structure. This was one of them.
Father Martinez rose from his chair near the altar with the expression of a man reconsidering every choice that had brought him to the priesthood. “Perhaps,” he said carefully, “we should take a brief recess.”
“No need,” I said.
I folded the pages. My fingers had stopped shaking.
“Thank you all for coming to honor my father,” I said into the mic. “He was a man of loyalty, precision, and timing. I think he would have appreciated that all three arrived today.”