He brought the records to Dad himself.
Every receipt.
Every invoice.
Every transfer.
He laid them on the kitchen table.
“I want you to see where everything went.”
Dad pushed the papers back.
“I trust the accounting.”
Derek did not take them.
“That isn’t the point.”
Dad looked at him.
Derek swallowed.
“The point is I need to become someone who doesn’t require blind trust.”
Dad studied his oldest son for a long time.
Then he pulled out a chair.
“All right.”
They reviewed every page together.
I watched from the doorway.
I did not join them.
Some repairs belonged to two people.
Three weeks after I had arrived, the family property trust held its first actual meeting.
We gathered at the kitchen table.
Inez brought revised documents.
Dad placed Granddad’s letter in the middle.
“The land is worth something,” she explained. “Not enough to make anyone rich. Enough to create options.”
