The Golden Visit
The pen trembled in my hand, the nib catching on the fiber of the paper as I tried to write the date. Three days. That was all the time left before the estate sale at Harrow House. My father had been dead for two weeks, but the lawyers said the property had to be cleared by the 14th, or the court would auction it off to the highest bidder. I was forty-two years old, and my left hand shook like...
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