Chapter 24 - FLORENCE DIES
Florence died at eighty-five.
Not from abuse.
Not from medication damage.
Congestive heart failure complicated by pneumonia.
I sat beside her.
She was lucid most of the final day.
She asked for water.
I held the cup.
Then stopped.
“Do you want to hold it?”
She smiled.
“Lucas.”
“What?”
“Pour.”
My throat closed.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
I poured.
She drank.
No symbolism needed.
Then she said:
“Terrible.”
“What?”
“Hospital water.”
I laughed and cried.
She died that night.
Her will was boring.
Personal savings.
Jewelry.
Furniture.
A small account to me.
Donations.
No hidden mansion.
Lake Arden transferred fully under George’s trust terms to the community land trust.
My board seat continued.
No ownership.
No contest.
May you like
Gwendolyn, still incarcerated, sent condolences through counsel.
I did not respond.
