"Open it."
Megan hesitated. The trembling in her hands stopped, replaced by a sudden, hollow dread. She opened the folder. Inside weren't photos of affairs...
His mother, Diane Ashworth, had organized the shower. She'd chosen the venue,
the menu, the guest list. I'd been allowed to attend, which I gathered...
I used to believe a “family legacy” meant warmth—photo albums, Sunday dinners, the scent of my grandmother’s cinnamon rolls drifting through the kitchen.
Then Nana...