My father sold the house I inherited while I was in Denver closing a client contract.
Then he called me as if he had done me a favor.
The house was a small cedar cabin overlooking Lake Michigan. It wasn’t large or luxurious. The roof needed repairs. The dock leaned slightly to one side. The paint faded a little more each year.
But it was mine.
More importantly, it had belonged to my grandmother, Ruth Bennett.
After Grandpa died, Grandma spent most of her remaining years there. Every Sunday, no
