At my grandmother’s will reading, my mother sat in front of fourteen silent people, watched the lawyer read out a $2.3 million estate that somehow included everyone but me, then turned with a smile so calm it felt practiced and said, “You were always her least favorite.” And for one humiliating second, I thought she had finally found the perfect way to erase me in public.

Rosalind was eighty two years old at the time and possessed a sharp wit that could cut through any pretense while often reminding me that money was the ultimate tool for revealing a person’s true character. She possessed her own wealth that was kept entirely separate from the family business and though I never asked about the details of her finances, she always seemed to be watching everyone with a knowing look.

“Money shows you who people really are,” she would often whisper to me while we sat in her garden sipping tea and watching my parents brag about their new cars. The call that changed everything arrived on a rainy Wednesday night while I was busy grading spelling tests at my small kitchen table.

My father’s voice was flat and strangely controlled as he informed me that Rosalind had passed away peacefully in her sleep at the big house in Wellesley. “Your grandmother is gone, Tessa, and the funeral home will be arriving at the house at eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” Douglas said before hanging up the phone without another word.

I do not remember the drive from Worcester to Wellesley but only the blur of headlights and the overwhelming weight of grief as I realized the one person who truly loved me was gone. When I finally walked into her house, my parents and Harrison were already in the kitchen discussing logistics with a cold efficiency that felt entirely devoid of any real sadness.

I bypassed their hushed conversations and went upstairs to her bedroom where I sat on the edge of her bed and held her cool hand for the very last time. While I was mourning the loss of my best friend, I could hear the low and fast tones of my parents downstairs as they began making the phone calls that would solidify their plan for her estate.

The funeral was held three days later and although I had asked to deliver the eulogy, Marilyn told me that Harrison would handle it because he was much better with large crowds. “Harrison is the face of this family now and it is only fitting that he represents us during the service,” Marilyn informed me while she adjusted her black veil in the mirror.