And I had never known.
The following week, the pressure began.
My aunt Bonita called.
She said Mom had told her I was refusing to help Delaney even though Grandpa had left me everything.
I listened.
Then asked whether Mom had mentioned the seventy thousand dollars Grandpa had already provided.
Bonita became quiet.
“What seventy thousand dollars?”
I took a breath.
“Exactly.”
Then I explained that I was reviewing the records and wouldn’t make financial decisions based on secondhand stories.
She agreed to wait before forming an opinion.
Other people weren’t as careful.
A woman from church approached my stand and remarked that Delaney was working hard to establish her boutique.
I nodded.
“I hope she succeeds.”
She looked toward me.
“Sometimes family needs a little help.”
I placed an apple in her bag.
“Sometimes they do.”
Then I returned to work.
I wasn’t going to explain Grandpa’s private financial history to every customer who repeated something my mother had said.
But I wasn’t going to let the story become something it wasn’t, either.
Dad called on Friday.
It was the first time I’d heard his voice directly in years.
“Chase, your mother is upset.”
I looked toward the orchard.
“I gathered.”
He sighed.
“It’s only one hundred fifty dollars a week.”
I nodded.
“Then why don’t you pay it?”
There was a pause.
“I signed the lease. If Delaney can’t make the rent, I’m responsible.”
I took a breath.
“Then you need to review the agreement you signed.”
He sounded irritated.
“Your grandfather always helped.”
I looked toward the patched coat hanging by the door.
“Did you ever ask whether he could afford it?”
Dad didn’t answer.
I continued.
“Did you ever drive out here to see how he was doing?”
Silence.
For a moment, I thought he might say something honest.
Instead, he told me I was being difficult.
Then ended the call.
The following Saturday, Mom came to the market again.
This time, she brought Delaney.
They waited until several customers were standing in front of my table.
Then Mom spoke loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.
“This is my son. He inherited his grandfather’s entire orchard, and he won’t spare one hundred fifty dollars to help his sister keep a roof over her head.”
The woman holding a basket of apples stopped moving.
Herm looked up.
Andrea turned from her flower stand.
For a moment, I felt every eye settle on me.
Then I finished making change for the customer in front of me.
I handed her the bag.
“Thank you. Have a good morning.”
She nodded uncertainly.
Then I looked toward Mom.
“You’re holding up the line.”
Her expression hardened.
“Chase, people should know how you’re treating your family.”
I took a breath.
“Mom, if you want to discuss money, we can do it somewhere private.”
She folded her arms.
“You’re ashamed.”
I shook my head.
“No. I’m trying to run my business.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Herm placed his bag of Northern Spies on the table.
“Chase, I’ll take another pound.”
I smiled faintly.
“Coming right up.”
Mom stared.
Then turned toward the parking lot.
Delaney followed.
But before she left, she looked back at me.
For a moment, I saw something I hadn’t expected.
Uncertainty.
She wasn’t entirely comfortable with what Mom had done.
And perhaps she was beginning to wonder what she hadn’t been told.
After they disappeared, Andrea came over.
She didn’t ask whether I was all right.
She could see I wasn’t.
Instead, she placed a fresh cup of coffee beside my register.
Then said something simple.
“You should find out where your grandpa went every Saturday.”
I looked toward her.
“What?”
She nodded toward the road.
“Nine years is a long time. If he was meeting your parents, somebody probably remembers.”
I stared.
Then slowly nodded.
“You’re right.”
She smiled.
“Go find out. I’ll cover the stand next Saturday.”
I tried refusing.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Chase, I’ve been selling flowers beside you for years. I can manage apples for one morning.”
For the first time that day, I laughed.
Then I thanked her.
The following Saturday, I woke before dawn.
I put on Grandpa’s patched barn coat.
It was cold, and somehow wearing it felt right.
Then I climbed into his old Chevrolet pickup and drove south toward Rockford.
I followed the bank statements.
The withdrawals had all been made at the same branch.
Across the street stood a small brick diner with a green awning.
Kyper’s.
I’d driven past it hundreds of times growing up.
The sign in the window advertised breakfast all day and homemade pie on Sundays.
I parked near the curb.
Then went inside.
The place smelled of coffee, bacon, and warm toast.
Several older men sat at the counter.
A waitress was filling their cups.
She looked up when the bell above the door rang.
For a moment, she stopped pouring.
Then she stared at my coat.
“Alvin?”
My throat tightened.
I shook my head.
“No, ma’am. I’m Chase. His grandson.”
Her expression changed.
She set down the coffee pot.
“Oh, honey.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
She came closer.
“I’m Deanna.”
I nodded.
Then she touched the sleeve of Grandpa’s coat.
“He wore that every winter.”
I looked down.
“Yeah.”
She smiled sadly.
“He showed me pictures of you.”
I stared.
“What?”
She pointed toward a booth near the window.
Green vinyl seats.
A little patch of tape covering a tear near the corner.
“Your grandpa sat right there every Saturday.”
For a moment, my legs felt uncertain.
I moved toward the booth.
Deanna brought coffee.
Then sat across from me after checking that the other customers were comfortable.
She studied my face.
“You’re here about the money, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
She took a breath.
Then told me everything.
The first Saturday after I moved into the farmhouse, Grandpa had arrived alone.
He ordered black coffee and two eggs.
A few minutes later, my parents came in.
Mom did most of the talking.
Delaney’s cheer expenses were increasing.
Competition fees.
Uniforms.
Travel.
My parents said they were having trouble keeping up.
Grandpa listened.
Then asked why they had sent me away.
Mom claimed I wanted independence.
Grandpa knew better.
Deanna remembered his expression because she’d never seen him look so disappointed.
He agreed to help Delaney.
One hundred fifty dollars a week.
But he attached a condition.