Someone poured water. Someone else commented on the food. The conversation had the quality of a waiting room—everyone present, nobody quite there. Diane came in last, after everyone was seated, and the room adjusted itself around her arrival. She thanked everyone for coming and said she loved this family. She picked up a folder from the sideboard.
She spoke for several minutes about the past year, losing their mother, and the burden of managing an estate while grieving. Her voice broke in exactly the right places, and Sarah felt something cold and clarifying move through her. Diane said, “I have something that has to be addressed.” She held the folder up.