Sign the paperwork, sweetheart, or I’ll make sure everyone in this town knows you’re

I picked up the pen. Diane’s eyes lit up. “Smart girl,” she purred. “I always said Michael married beneath him, but at least you know when to fold.” I clicked the pen twice. Then I set it down. “Before I sign anything, Diane, I want you to meet someone.” I raised my hand. From the booth behind her, a woman in a charcoal blazer stood up and slid in beside me. “This is Rebecca Hall. She’s the estate attorney Michael hired six months before he passed.” Diane’s face went the color of old paper. Rebecca opened her own folder, thicker than Diane’s. “Mrs. Whitaker, my client left a sealed letter to be opened if you ever attempted to pursue custody of Lily. He also left instructions regarding the twenty-two thousand dollars you withdrew from his hospice account using a power of attorney that was revoked on March 3rd.” Diane’s lawyer suddenly found his phone very interesting. “That’s a lie,” Diane hissed. I slid my own phone across the table. On the screen was a voicemail from the bank, dated the morning after Michael’s funeral, confirming the transfer she’d authorized while I was choosing his casket. “The DA’s office already has copies,” Rebecca said gently. “But my client isn’t interested in prosecution. She’s interested in a permanent, notarized agreement that you will have no contact with Lily until Lily herself, as an adult, chooses otherwise.” I finally looked up. “You called me an unfit mother in front of my daughter, Diane. In the last thing my husband ever wrote to me, he called you the reason he learned what love shouldn’t look like.” Lily tugged my sleeve. “Mommy, can we go home? Grandma’s face looks funny.” I kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, baby. We’re going home.” I stood up, left the pen, and walked out into the parking lot where the sun was just starting to rise. Diane stayed in that booth for a long time. I didn’t look back.