He had spent his entire life refusing to turn people into simple categories.
Good wood could have knots.
Badly warped wood could sometimes be straightened.
He believed much the same about people.
“So they moved in?” I asked.
“For a few months,” Mom said. “That was the plan.”
Dad nodded.
Derek and Veronica had been renting a place across town. When their lease ended, Dad offered them my old bedroom until Derek found stable work.
At first, things went well.
Derek repaired a leaking section of roof. Veronica cooked most evenings. They drove Mom to medical appointments and helped Dad deliver two custom cabinets he had made for an old client.
Then Dad had pneumonia.
Nothing life-threatening, but serious enough that he spent several days in the hospital.
“That’s when the paperwork started,” he said.
My stomach tightened.
“What paperwork?”
“Derek said we needed to organize things. In case something happened.”
