Higgins hadn't raised his voice, but it cut through the room like a blade.
"You were not invited to this meeting."
David turned on him.
"That letter has my signature on it.
I have every right—"
"You have a right to be present for the reading of a will that names you," Mr.
Higgins said.
"This will does not name you.
Please sit down."
David's eyes went to me, then to the lawyer, then back to me.
He pulled a chair from the wall and sat down slowly.
His hands were on his knees, but his fingers were white.
"Read it aloud, Linda," Mr.
Higgins said.
"That was the condition."
I looked down at the letter.
My hands were shaking.
I started reading.
*"If you are reading this, it means my neighbor David finally succeeded in what he set out to do.
He wanted my property.
He wanted it badly enough to spend three years trying to break me."*
I stopped.
My throat closed.
"Keep going," Mr.
Higgins said quietly.
*"I know what you're thinking, Linda.
You're thinking I was the one who made your life miserable.
The noise complaints.
The dirt on your roses.
The property line arguments.
The calls to the city.
The letters to the HOA.
Every single one of those came from David, not from me."*
The room tilted.
I looked up at David.
He didn't move.
"That's a lie," he said.
"That old man was—"
"Let her finish," Mr.
Higgins said.
