The three of them sat in the living room of the large Park Avenue apartment, Sammy on the couch with his Uncle Joe, and Ellen, Sammy’s mother, in her favorite blue wing chair. Slight, with graying brown hair, Ellen had a vacant look in her eyes. The large brown leather chair—his father’s chair—sat empty.
“Mom, just when were you going to tell me?” “Sammy, easy now,” said Uncle Joe. “Look, I know this has been a difficult time, but really,
when did you plan on letting me know, Mom?”
Without saying a word, Sammy’s mother pulled out a brown business envelope from her tote bag, which was resting next to her chair on the hardwood floor, and handed it to Sammy. It had not been sealed, which struck Sammy as a bit strange, but it did have ...