Vanessa was standing on the front porch arguing with a locksmith.
Grant was beside the garage.
A man with a clipboard stood near Dad’s truck.
The evaluator.
They really had invited someone to appraise it.
Vanessa saw Dad first.
The color drained from her face.
Grant turned next.
The clipboard man looked from Dad to the truck and slowly lowered his pen.
Dad stopped at the bottom of the walkway.
“Morning.”
Nobody answered.
The locksmith looked at Vanessa.
“You said the homeowner passed away.”
Dad raised his hand.
“Rumors of my death appear to be exaggerated.”
The police officers arrived behind us.
Vanessa immediately started crying.
Actual tears this time.
“Dad, please. We panicked.”
Dad looked at the locksmith.
“Did she show you proof that I was dead?”
“No, sir.”
“Proof she owned the house?”
