Nobody went to court.

That night, I let myself into Mom's house with my own key. I didn't turn on the big lights. I just sat at the kitchen table, where she'd made the video.

Her iPad was on the counter, charging, where she always left it.

I picked it up. I knew her passcode. It was my dad's birthday.

There was a little yellow app called Notes. I'd never seen her use it.

Inside, there was one note.

The title was For Claire.

Claire, if you're reading this, Thomas has done his job. Don't feel guilty about the house. You earned it a thousand times over, one Sunday at a time.

The bakery cat can come and live here if he wants. I always liked the sound of him.

Fix the third step on the porch. It's loose again.

And please, sweetheart, don't hate your brother and sister. They're not bad people. They just forgot who they were for a while. Your father would have knocked their heads together. I'm too old. That's your job now.

I love you more than all the crab cakes in Maryland.

Mom.

I sat in her kitchen and read it until the iPad battery ran out.

In the morning, I fixed the third step on the porch.