Elderly woman looks at a note | Source: Pexels
Let me give you some background. Jim and I have always tried to be there for Sarah. We’re not rich, but we’ve given what we could. Over the years, we’ve made her handmade quilts, given her heirloom jewelry, and even helped with a down payment for her car. We also covered some of her college expenses.
We always thought these things meant something to her.

Elderly man hugs his granddaughter | Source: Pexels
Back to the present. Jim and I sat down at the kitchen table, the letter and quotation lying between us like a bad omen. My hands trembled with anger and hurt.
“Can you believe this?” I asked, holding the letter out to him. Tears pricked at my eyes. “After everything we’ve done for her?”
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