“That boy from the hospital?” Mom asked. “Sweetheart, that money should stay in the family.”
“It’s $25,000,” Uncle Will added. “Are you sure you’re thinking straight?”
“I’ve never been more certain.”
Rebecca scoffed. “My son’s starting college too. He’s your nephew—your blood.”
I looked around the table. These were the same people who hadn’t called, hadn’t visited, hadn’t cared.
“Blood didn’t show up when I needed it most,” I said.
Dad shifted uncomfortably. “We had our struggles.”
“Like what? You couldn’t visit your dying grandson?”
“I don’t handle hospitals well,” he muttered.
“Neither do I. But I showed up anyway.”
“Scott, that’s not fair,” Mom whispered.
“And where were you, Rebecca? Too busy with work?”
Rebecca frowned. “I had deadlines…”
“And you, Mom? Where were you during Ben’s treatments?”
She sighed. “Hospitals make me anxious.”
I turned to Uncle Will. “You remember when I called you? Just needed someone to sit with Ben so I could shower.”
He looked down. “I had responsibilities too.”
“But Daniel didn’t. A 16-year-old kid showed up every week. Held Ben’s hand. Brought him joy when none of you could bother to send a message.”
“We’re family!” Rebecca shouted. “That boy means nothing to us!”
“No. That boy was family to Ben. More than any of you.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Aunt Joyce chimed in. “You’re giving money to a stranger.”
“That ‘stranger’ helped me plan Ben’s funeral. He picked Ben’s favorite shirt because he knew what it was.”
“Good deeds don’t equal inheritance,” Dad snapped.
“No, but they show me who truly cared.”
Mom reached for my hand. “Please think about this. Your nephew needs help.”
“He visited Ben once. And complained the entire time.”
“He was uncomfortable,” Rebecca said.
“So was Daniel. So was Ben. But Daniel still came.”
I stood. “Fine. I’ll give you the money—on one condition. Answer this: What was Ben’s last day like?”
Blank stares.
“Do you know what he said when the doctors gave us the news? What song did he want playing? What did he wear?”
