Then the marriage proposal.
Mom explained that too.
When I asked you to marry me, I was not asking for romance. It was an old woman’s foolish attempt to create legal protection quickly because I feared dying before I could put better arrangements in place. You were right to refuse me. I was proud of you for doing so.
Ethan covered his eyes.
I kept reading.
I have not left you my house. A house cannot repay a childhood. Money cannot make strangers into family. I have left you something smaller and, I hope, more useful: a choice.
Mr. Feldman opened another envelope.
Mom had created a trust.
Not huge.
$180,000.
Enough for housing, education, medical care, or a down payment if Ethan chose.
Professionally administered for five years, then fully his.
No requirement that he take our family name.
No requirement that he live near us.
No requirement that he forgive anyone.
