night, papers spread across the coffee table, and almost called the whole thing off.
“What are you going to do, baby?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Ma. He has money. I have nothing.”
“You have the truth.”
“She called you the boy who chose to stay.”
***
I drove to the nursing home the next morning. Margaret was in the sunroom, knitting something blue and crooked.
“Jeremy,” she said, patting the seat beside her. “I wondered when you’d come.”
“He’s suing me, Margaret. Tim. He says I tricked her.”
She set
