Thursday night at dinner, I slapped the certified copy from county records onto the center of the table.
“The land is mine. So is the house.”
Victor choked on his steak and coughed for half a minute.
Mom’s face went pale for one second, then the smile came right back.
“Baby, I was just about to tell you about that—”
“You tried to sell it seven years ago,” I cut her off. “Got denied. I found everything.”
The dining room went so quiet I could hear the hum of the refrigerator.
Victor set down his knife and fork, shifting into his business voice.
“Rose, fine. The land is yours. Nobody’s taking it from you. But land just sitting there is dirt. Sell it, and it becomes money. One point two million—”
“I’ll sign.”
They both froze.
“One point two million,” I said slowly. “I take two hundr
