A Daughter's Trust / For the Love of Family. Kathleen O'Brien

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      Sue lost track of how many generations the necklace had been in the family, how many greats it went back, but she loved the story that went with the cherished piece. Had never tired of hearing it.

      It had arrived in California with the Dale Carson who’d first come to America from Scotland. The son of itinerant farm workers. He’d fallen in love with the daughter of one of the wealthy gentlemen farmers he’d worked for, but their plans to marry were discovered. And the aggrieved father put an end to their affair. His love had given the young man the only thing of value she had with her—her necklace—and told him to use it for passage to America, where he could at least have the hope of a more promising future.

      The young man had made it to America, working his way across the ocean in the bowels of a ship. The necklace, they said, he’d kept hidden away. And years later, in his new land, his new home, he gave it to the woman he married.

      The necklace became a symbol. Hard work would get Carsons where they needed to be. They didn’t ever have to sell out; if things got tough, they just had to work harder.

      As far as jewelry went, the piece was probably extremely valuable.

      And Sue didn’t give a hoot.

      She wanted her grandmother back…

      Jenny and Luke held their packets, unopened. Belle picked up hers.

      Sue didn’t give a damn what any of them read. What any sheets in the packet said.

      She didn’t need goods.

      She needed Grandma Sarah.

      Jenny had Luke. Belle had Emily. Sam had Sam.

      Sue used to have Sarah.

      And…there were two extra packets on the table, in addition to Sue’s. What was that about?

      The door to the room opened again. Sue recognized Stan. She’d met him once; she’d joined Grandma for lunch a couple of years ago after Sarah had had an appointment with the lawyer. They’d all walked out of this high-rise building together.

      She’d have smiled, greeted him, in spite of the heaviness of her heart, except that…Stan wasn’t alone. Staring, she tried to make sense of the presence of the two men entering right behind her grandmother’s lawyer.

      What were Joe and his dad doing there? Looking for someone? An attorney associate, perhaps?

      “Good morning, everyone. Good, you’re seated. Going over the information.” Stan spoke quickly. Too quickly. “Gentlemen, have a seat.” He pointed from Joe and his father to the empty couch. “Can I get anyone coffee?”

      Joe’s father sat. Joe stood behind him. Next to Sue.

      “What’s going on?” she whispered.

      Uncle Sam, his jaw tight, stared suspiciously at the newcomers. “Stan? Is there some mistake here?”

      “No, Sam. This is Adam Fraser and his son, Joe. Sarah asked that I contact them to be here this morning.”

      Sue and Belle exchanged a glance. Luke and Jenny opened their packets. Emily studied the one she’d yet to open. Sue could feel the tension tightening her body and stealing air from the room. If this Adam Fraser guy got anything from Grandma, Uncle Sam was going to cause one hell of a scene.

      One of his worst nightmares since Grandpa died was that some freeloader would take advantage of Sarah.

      And from what Sue knew of Adam Fraser, he fit the freeloader bill.

       Oh, God, please. Enough is enough. No scenes between my uncle and my boss today okay?

      And while she was asking, she sent up a quick request for brevity. Her minutes with Camden were ticking away.

      Not to mention divvying up Grandma’s stuff just seemed so…barbaric. Heartless.

      Divvying up her stuff made her seem…gone.

      “So—” the lawyer adjusted his gray-and-white-striped tie as he sat, keeping on the gray jacket that perfectly matched his pants “—let’s get started, shall we?” He glanced at Joe and Sue. And at the empty spaces on the couches. “Shall I get a couple more seats?”

      “No,” Sue and Joe answered simultaneously.

      Sue added, “I’m fine. I prefer to stand.”

      Everyone in the room was looking at her and Joe.

      She’d made it through four years of high school as best friends with Joe Fraser without ever having to introduce him to her family. And four days after she did introduce him, he’d showed up in a very private family meeting.

      It was like something from The Twilight Zone.

      “I’m good, too,” Joe said. And Sue wondered what he was really thinking behind that cool facade.

      She tried to focus on anything but Grandma being gone. And Camden going.

      She wondered who Rick Kraynick was and what emergency he had that he thought she could help with.

      And she remembered she needed diapers.

      Stan had them all open their documents. Adam handed one set back to Joe and one to Sue. Neither bothered opening them. The lawyer started to read—legal stuff about the history of last wills and testaments, about the sound minds of Sarah and Robert as they’d drawn up their bequests. About probate and executors. And then, so calmly Sue almost missed it, he announced that he’d been named as executor of Sarah Carson’s will.

      No one looked at Sam, except Sue. She stared straight at him, saw the stiffening of his shoulders as he sat upright. Watched the red rise in his face. Obviously, in his perusal of the pages, he’d missed the executor part. Or hadn’t yet read that far.

      Sue’s stomach, filled with nervous tension, threatened to send her to the restroom as she contemplated what else Uncle Sam hadn’t yet gotten to in those papers. What else was soon to be disclosed.

      “Why are you really here?” Sue whispered to the man standing so stiffly beside her. He had to know. He had to tell her.

      Someone had to do something before Uncle Sam exploded.

      “I have no idea,” Joe whispered back.

      Sue’s gaze shot to him. His lips were tight, the nerves in his throat pulsing.

      “You sound worried.”

      “With my dad, I never know what to expect.”

      Yes, but what could abandonment or drinking habits have to do with Grandma Sarah? Unless the man had swindled her grandmother out of her small fortune? But if that were the case, the swindler wouldn’t be invited to the unveiling of his sins, would he? Not with the family gathered.

      “Now.” Stan Wilson cleared his throat, crossing one leg over the other. “Before I get to the actual will, I have a short letter Sarah asked me to read to you.”

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