The woman holding my arm was Eleanor, Callum’s eighty-two-year-old grandmother. Vivienne had spent years telling everyone Eleanor was too confused and frail to attend family events. That was not true. Eleanor had simply refused to speak to Vivienne after discovering how she had handled Callum’s father’s estate. When I told Eleanor about the $15,000 check, she insisted on attending the wedding herself. The moment Vivienne saw her walking beside me, she understood exactly why.
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