Without hesitating, I booked a flight back home. I needed to visit Gran’s grave, to say my goodbyes on my own terms. But as soon as I got back to town, I saw Maverick driving that shiny red convertible. Maverick, who could barely make ends meet, suddenly had a car that looked worth more than his entire life savings. My gut told me something was off.
Standing by Gran’s grave later that day, I struggled to accept that she was really gone. I hadn’t been able to say goodbye, and finding out about her death through a social media post still stung deeply. Just then, Mr. Anderson, Gran’s closest friend, approached me. His face was heavy with sympathy.
“Juniper, I’m sorry. Your Gran was one-of-a-kind,” he said softly.
“She really was,” I replied, fighting back tears. “I just wish I had more time with her.”
After a quiet moment, he looked at me with concern. “Did you get the $20,000 she left you?”
I blinked, shocked. “What?”
