The House My Parents Gave Me—and What I Turned It Into

leaning at angles that suggest they’ve given up.

My father didn’t look up when he said it. Just kept cutting his steak, knife scraping against the plate. “It needs work. But you’re handy. You’ll figure it out.”

That was it. That was my inheritance, my graduation gift, my reward for twenty-eight years of being the daughter who didn’t cause problems.

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