“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I understand. You might intend to just get to know him so you can be grandparents together but I guarantee you, that’s not how he’s going to see it.”

 “How do you know that?”

 “I’m a guy, Riley. That’s how I know.”

 * * *

 It turned out that John Shay was the millionaire next door. An unpretentious, hardworking man of sensible but excellent taste. He and his first wife built themselves a solid house in a good neighborhood and he saved and invested all his life. Emma didn’t come along until he was thirty-five and he lost his wife to diabetes-related kidney failure a year later. He had accrued a nice little nest egg by the time he died, and insurance paid off the house, which was valued at a million and a quarter.

 John bought good cars and drove them until they died of old age, did all his own yard work and could have indulged in European vacations or maybe had a summer home, but instead he saved and invested. His second wife had worked, his children were always well dressed and he insisted on a good mattress. They never scrimped on food; they ate good, healthy meals. Emma would have expected her father to have left a reasonable sum that was meant to cover his retirement but she was completely unprepared for the estate to be worth several million dollars.

 It was obvious that Rosemary did what she always had done where Emma was concerned—she took what was Emma’s and gave it to Anna and Lauren, two young women who had inherited their mother’s anger and bitterness. For a little while Emma was sad that those two had her father’s house but then she thought about the two of them living there together in old age and her sadness turned to pity. She had no idea if either of them had a significant relationship or love in their lives but they seemed far too unhappy for that. But then Rosemary was a stiff and negative woman and she’d been married three times.

 Emma gave Aaron her banking information and he arranged to have the money she was entitled to transferred into her bank account—she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with it yet. After her experience with Richard she wasn’t eager to turn it over to a broker or money manager so she thought maybe she’d study a little about investments herself, do something that felt safe. She was her father’s daughter, after all.

 Rosemary died and Emma paid her respects. Adam was her escort. She went only to the visitation and had a very large floral arrangement delivered. There weren’t many people present, mostly friends of Anna and Lauren’s, and Emma didn’t stay long.

 She told no one about the money, not even Adam. When he noticed she was a little melancholy she made the excuse that the final goodbye to Rosemary and probably her sisters had left her feeling a little let down. But it was the money. It bothered her. Worried her. She decided she had to get that off her back and planned to explain to Adam that she’d been blown away by an uncomfortably large sum.

 She asked if she could cook dinner for him at his house on a Friday night. It was the end of January and he was thrilled by the offer. She wasn’t much of a cook—so little practice over the years—so she made an extra-large pot of spaghetti and meatballs, bought prepared garlic bread that only needed a few minutes in the oven and threw together a simple salad.

 “Perfect,” Adam said.

 “I made a big batch so we can have fried spaghetti tomorrow night. If I’m invited back.”

 “I want to be with you every night you’ll have me,” he said.

 “Adam, I have something to tell you. I’ve been keeping something from you. Just for a couple of weeks, but I have to tell someone and you’re the only one that really matters.”

 “I thought something was wrong,” he said. “I’ve been worried.”

 She explained about the will. She didn’t tell him how much she’d received but she said it was substantial.

 “Emma, that’s fantastic! But how in the world did Rosemary think she’d hide it from you?”

 “I’m not sure, except that she managed the trust. The lawyer, who was my father’s friend, said there was more, especially a third of the value of the house, if I wanted to fight for it. Adam, I put the money in the bank and I hope I don’t regret it, but I asked Aaron not to pursue this any further. There’s another check due when I’m thirty-five and I’ll put that in the bank. My sisters...my lonely, angry, heartbroken sisters might be very rich but I won’t challenge the management of the trust. I’m done. Just having more than ten thousand dollars in the bank makes me uncomfortable.”

 He laughed. “Something for you to talk to Lucinda about,” he said. “But you have a little savings, Emma. The sky isn’t falling anymore.”

 “Why does having anything make me feel bad? Guilty?”

 “And why does that surprise you after what Richard did? Listen, if you can’t beat the guilt even with therapy, you can always give it all to charity.”

 “Would you?”

 “Oh, hell no,” he said with a grin. “I’ve been working my whole life for a savings account. I’m thirty-seven, have an IRA, a little money socked away, a schoolteacher’s pension and my mortgage will be paid off in ten years because I always throw a little extra at the principal. Mom is taken care of, Riley is very successful, Maddie’s college tuition is in the bank... We’re in great shape. If someone dumped a bunch of money in my lap, I wouldn’t feel guilt unless it was stolen.”

 “But I bet you’d use it to help people,” she said.

 “Emma, I help people every day. My mom helps people and animals. Riley thinks she’s just working herself to death but look at what she’s built and how it caters to the single mothers she employs. For most people helping people is either a way of life, or it’s not.”

 And she thought, he is so right. I will just be still and quiet for a little while and I’ll know exactly how to make my father’s legacy help people.