house I’d lived in for nineteen years and from my mother’s life insurance, God rest her.
So I bought the house. Two-eighty, cash, in a development off Route 9 with a cul-de-sac and a finished basement. My name on the deed. I told Rachel and Daniel they could live there, raise Lily there, and someday it’d be theirs free and clear. I wasn’t trying to continue reading …
