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or jealousy. Then she unfolded the paper.
Her handwriting, blue ink, five bullet points, each one neat, deliberate, the product of what must have been hours of calculation.
She read them aloud. Retirement fund for your father and me, $500,000. I said nothing.
College fund for Paige’s son, Thomas, $200,000. Nothing. Medical expenses.
Your father’s knee continue reading …
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