My father stood up at the lake house dinner and raised his glass in fr…

Friday afternoon in Sylvia’s office.

Twelve pages.

Initials on some.

Full signature on others.

Nadia Louise Voss.

I read every page before signing. Sylvia did not rush me. She sat across from me with her hands folded, watching the way someone watches a person cross a bridge.

When I reached the last page, I paused.

Not because I was unsure.

Because I wanted continue reading …