“More than documents.”
He opened another envelope.
Inside was a letter addressed to Manuel and Carmen.
The paper had browned with age.
Dad did not hand it to me.
Instead, he read quietly.
It was from my grandfather.
He wrote about family pride. About how people often mistook ownership for security. About how a house could become a symbol of everything people believed they deserved.
At the end, there was one sentence Dad read twice.
If the house ever divides your children, do not ask which child deserves the house. Ask which choice gives them a reason to become family again.
I looked at him.
“That’s what Derek and Veronica have been looking for?”
Dad shook his head.
“They don’t know about the letter.”
“Then what?”
He removed a newer envelope.
This one was only six years old.
The return address belonged to a local attorney I vaguely remembered.
