My daughter and son-in-law abandoned me at my wife’s grave, 190 miles from home. “You’re a burden. Walk home,” he texted. Seconds later, my daughter added, “Don’t wait, Dad.”

sent neither of them a response. I searched my contacts instead, selecting a number untouched for six years.

 

Someone I knew well picked up.

 

“Harold Bennett? Is everything all right?”

 

“Not quite, Richard.”

 

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Richard Mercer had served as my company’s attorney for twenty-seven years.

 

My gaze returned to Eleanor’s stone.

 

“I need you to arrange a ride. Then prepare every document we discussed.”

 

He paused before replying.

 

“Are you certain?”

 

“Completely.”

 

 

Three hours and twenty minutes later, a chauffeured car carried

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