Then Lila laughed.
She tried to disguise it as a cough, but nobody believed her.
“Well,” she said, glancing around the lawyer’s office, “I suppose Mother made her feelings clear.”
I looked at her.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged.
“Nothing. I’m only saying that people usually leave their most valuable things to the children they feel closest to.”
Our brother shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Lila, this isn’t the time.”
“When would be the right time?” she replied. “We’re here to discuss what Mother wanted. Apparently, she wanted Clara to have an old blanket.”
“It’s a shawl,” I said quietly.
Lila smiled.
“Of course. Forgive me. An old shawl.”
The lawyer gave her a disapproving look, but she ignored him.
My hands rested in my lap as I stared at the cardboard box.
