I could see the front of it clearly.
My name was there in Dad’s handwriting.
Not Natalie’s.
Not both of ours.
Mine.
Grant.
I thought about the thousand dollars still more than I wanted to.
Three days earlier, Natalie had treated the request as though Dad were starting a bad habit.
Dad had treated the money like a necessary step.
Whatever those certified copies, legal help, adoption files, and the test were connected to, he had been determined enough to swallow his pride and ask me for cash.
That told me the answer mattered to him.
The attorney waiting nearby told me he had gotten farther than I realized.
The sealed envelope told me he had expected a moment when the truth might have to speak for him.
