8

8

Amber

I decided not to tie my hair up and let it fall freely over my shoulders instead. I’ve always loved the waves in my dark chestnut hair.

Sometimes I wish I were blonde, but I’ve never really liked going to the salon, so I always end up sticking with my natural color.

I quickly pulled out a shirt and skirt from the wardrobe and got dressed.

I didn’t want Lucas to feel embarrassed in front of his uncle, so I was determined to be early—punctual and prepared.

Uncle Darian and his family had moved in with Grandpa after struggling to get by in New York.

They were planning to move into their own place once they found something affordable.

While Grandma and Aunt Maria were preparing breakfast together, that annoying witch Grace was lounging on the couch like royalty. Not even pretending to help. Typical.

I headed to the kitchen and picked up the teapots.

There were a lot of us in the house, so the teapots were heavy. My hands trembled as I carried them carefully to the table.

Dean came whistling down the stairs.

“Good morning, my beautiful Amber. You look stunning again today.”

“That’s just your charm rubbing off on me, babe.”

Dean made a face. “Babe? Seriously? You should be saying, ‘You’re as handsome as ever, my dear Dean.’”

“Forgive me. You’re as handsome as ever, my dear Dean.”

Eva joined us in her pajamas, yawning as she rested her head on her brother’s shoulder.

Clinging to him like an octopus, she mumbled, “Ugh, I just want to go back to sleep.”

From behind us, Grandpa raised his cane and barked,

“There are rules in this house! Everyone is to be at breakfast by eight sharp!”

The tone in his voice made me nervous. Then I remembered he used to be a commander.

What if he thought we were his soldiers and started making us do drills around the house? We’re doomed.

Cara, who had just turned eighteen, saluted and shouted,

“That’s right! We’re Grandpa’s soldiers!”

“Atta girl, my lion-hearted granddaughter!” he said proudly.

If he’s calling us by the right names, then thank God—his mind is still in the right place. For now.

⸻

Amber

After everyone had woken up and sat down for breakfast, my father turned to my uncle and said,

“We need to sell the land.”

“I’m sorry—what?” my uncle replied, puzzled.

“The land. We need to sell it.”

“I heard what you said, but I don’t understand why we’re selling it.”

“We need money to release the company from the mortgage. That means we have to liquidate whatever property we still own.”

“The bank’s already seized everything under our names. What do we even have left to sell?”

At my uncle’s sharp response, my father gestured toward my grandfather.

“The land is under our father’s name. If we can find a good buyer, it might just be enough to save us.”

Grace suddenly jumped up with excitement.

“That’s amazing! Then sell it right away! Oh, finally, we found a solution. I thought this nightmare would never end,” she blurted out, completely tone-deaf.

Grandpa Raymond calmly sipped his tea and said,

“Those lots used to be nothing but mulberry fields. I remember telling Claire, ‘Let’s sell your bracelets and buy those fields.’ She didn’t argue. Gave me everything she had. I added my savings too. We bought up every stretch of mulberry grove at the far end of Tech Terrace.

But you can’t sell them anymore.”

Sometimes his illness felt like it didn’t exist at all.

He spoke with such clarity, you’d need a dozen doctors to convince you he had Alzheimer’s.

My father tensed—his face gave it away.

“Why not, Dad? Why can’t we sell them?”

“Because I already sold them. Back when you and your brother were starting your company. I gave the money to your brother. Didn’t he tell you?”

My father looked stunned.

My uncle, on the other hand, kept chewing his cheese like he couldn’t care less.

“Darian, is that true?” my father asked.

Before my uncle could respond, Claire jumped in.

“Your father remembers correctly. Darian called back then. Said he needed a large sum of money. We sold what we could—and that land was part of it.”

Uncle Darian stood up.

“They’re right. I didn’t have the money to go into business with you. So I asked our parents for help. Got a problem with that?”

My father was seething now.

“Why wasn’t I told? What gave you the right to use our father’s property without telling me? I had inheritance rights over that land too!”

“My father wasn’t even dead. What inheritance rights are you talking about? Amber, you’re the lawyer here—you tell him. Can’t a man give whatever he owns to whomever he wants while he’s still alive?”

“I really don’t want to get between you two,” I said calmly.

“The law and family traditions don’t always align.

Some families in Lubbock still follow old customs and don’t leave inheritance to daughters, for example—but the law says daughters have an equal share.

So I’m not sure if talking legalities will help much here.”