Kevin laughed, a sound that lacked any warmth. “Do whatever you want, babe. It’s ours now. Finally.”
“Are you sure she won’t come back?” Jessica asked, pausing. “What if she has a key?”
“I changed the locks this morning,” Kevin bragged, swirling his drink. “Let her try. She’ll see the note and go crying to her sister in Jersey. I’m done carrying her. Dad is gone, and the law is the law. I’m the only son. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, right? I’m in the house. She’s out.”
He took a long sip. “I deserve this house. I put up with his lectures for thirty years. This is my payment.”
They toasted to their new fortune, oblivious to the headlights sweeping across the front window.
Ten minutes later, a loud, mechanical drilling sound erupted from the front door.
Kevin jumped up, spilling his scotch. “What the hell?”
“Is she trying to break in?” Jessica shrieked.
“I’ll handle this,” Kevin growled. He marched to the door, ready to physically intimidate his seventy-year-old mother. “I told her to leave!”
The door swung open before he could reach it.
It wasn’t just Martha.
Standing in the hallway was Martha, looking regal despite her fatigue. Flanking her were two uniformed police officers and Mr. Henderson, the family attorney, holding a thick leather briefcase. A locksmith was already stepping aside, packing his drill.
“What is this?” Kevin shouted, his face turning red. “You’re trespassing! Get out! This is my house! Dad left it to me!”
