Chapter 95 The Will
- “Thank God for the Delgado job,” she writes. “The pay’s good, but that wretched grandmother, she always complaining about weak tea, roses that refuse to bloom…”
- I swallow hard. The ink wavers, as though her hand trembled.
- “And the way she dotes on Irene while Leslie and her mother are cast aside... it’s enough to boil blood.”