“Read what’s signed,” he used to say. “Not what people say.”
So when my parents filed a petition claiming Grandpa had transferred the entire property to them before his death, that was exactly what I did.
I read.
Their lawyer, Martin Voss, stood as I entered and gave my uniform an amused glance.
“Your Honor, Ms. Bates appears to have come straight from a parade.”
“Captain Bates,” I corrected.
My father snorted.
“Still playing soldier.”
“Navy,” I said.
That was when Judge Eleanor Price looked up.
Her eyes moved from my shoulder boards to the ribbons on my chest.
Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal.
Meritorious Service Medal.
Combat Action Ribbon.
Then she leaned forward.
“Captain Bates… from Yemen?”
The room seemed to change temperature.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Voss stopped smiling.
My mother glanced between us.
“What does Yemen have to do with a farm?”
“Possibly nothing,” Judge Price said quietly. “Please sit down, Mrs. Bates.”
