looked broken.
She whispered:
“He really loved you.”
I nodded.
“I loved him too.”
She sat back down.
Then she asked the lawyer quietly:
“Did he leave anything for me?”
The lawyer closed the folder.
“Yes.”
She looked up.
“What?”
“He left you the family photographs, your mother’s jewelry, and a letter.”
Patrice’s eyes filled with tears.
“And the house?”
Mr. Abernathy looked toward me.
“The house belongs to her.”
Patrice closed her eyes.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then she whispered:
“I thought I was protecting my father.”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
She wiped her face.
“I thought if I found someone to keep him company, I was doing the right thing.”
“You were.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I was paying someone to do what I was too busy to do myself.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Patrice looked directly at me.
“I’m
