By Monday, the whispers at the nursing home had already started.
“I need to think.”
I felt them before I heard them.
The pause when I walked into the break room.
The way two nurses stopped talking when I passed in the hallway.
Even the residents I’d known for over a year looked at me differently.
Sarah found me in the supply closet restocking towels.
“Daniel.” She closed the door behind her. “Management wants to see you on Wednesday. It’s a formal inquiry.”
“I figured.”
I felt them before I heard them.
“You need a plan,” my friend said.
“I’m going to give it back,” I said. “All of it. Whatever’s in the bag, whatever she left. Gloria’s nephew, Marcus, can have it. I don’t want people thinking I did this for money.”
Sarah stared at me. “Daniel, that’s exactly what Marcus wants.”
“Maybe he deserves it. He’s her blood.”
“So? You were her family. I saw you with her every day.”
I didn’t answer. I just kept folding the towels.
“You need a plan.”
That night, I sat on my bed with the bag in front of me. I hadn’t opened it. Somehow, it felt like a violation. The second I unzipped it, I’d be admitting Marcus was right about something.
My phone buzzed. I answered it, and it was Mr. Charleston.
“Daniel, I didn’t get to finish that day. Before you make any decisions, please open the bag. Read the letter. Gloria anticipated all of this.”
I hadn’t opened it.
“Anticipated what?”
