Chapter 9 - Grandpa’s Card
I mailed Leonard’s card.
Nothing else.
No note from me.
No request.
No lecture.
Willa had drawn a yellow house with six little windows.
Beside it stood three stick figures.
Me.
Denton.
Willa.
At the bottom, in crooked purple marker, she had written:
Merry Christmas Grandpa.
Thank you for letting Mommy help with your houses because Mommy says family helps family.
Love Willa.
Leonard received it on December 30.
I knew because he called Denton instead of me.
Denton put the phone on speaker only after asking my permission.
My father sounded different.
“Is Karen there?”
“Yes.”
“Can I talk to her?”
I said nothing.
Denton looked at me.
I nodded.
“I’m here.”
Leonard inhaled.
“I got Willa’s card.”
“Okay.”
“Did you read it?”
“No.”
He told me what it said.
Hearing the words aloud hurt.
He continued.
“I didn’t realize she knew about the properties.”
“She knows I help you.”
“She thinks I let you help.”
I almost smiled bitterly.
“That is what happened.”
“No.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“I think I expected it.”
That was the closest my father had ever come to acknowledging the truth.
Then he ruined it.
“Could you come over?”
“Why?”
“I need help with the insurance renewal.”
“No.”
“Karen.”
“Hire a manager.”
“Your mother thinks—”
I interrupted.
“There.”
“What?”
“That is the problem.”
Silence.
“You were about to explain what Mom thinks.”
“I asked what you think.”
Leonard said nothing.
I continued.
“For seven years, you watched her treat my daughter differently.”
“You always had an explanation.”
“She’s traditional.”
“She needs time.”
“She doesn’t understand adoption.”
“She doesn’t mean it that way.”
“On Christmas, she wrote cruelty on paper, put it beside one dollar, handed it to a seven-year-old, and you still defended her.”
“I didn’t defend—”
“You said blood is blood.”
He went quiet.
I could hear him breathing.
Finally, he whispered.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No.”
“You shouldn’t have believed it.”
I ended the call.
Later that afternoon, Rebecca contacted me.
She had reviewed the insurance file Leonard was struggling with.
There was an issue.
A major one.
My parents’ umbrella liability policy expired at midnight on December 31.
The renewal had been sitting in Leonard’s inbox for six weeks.
I had reminded him three times.
He had told me to handle it after Christmas.
May you like
I was no longer authorized.
And unless he completed the renewal himself, six rental properties would enter the new year without the coverage his lender required.
