After we laid my husband to rest, my son drove me to a quiet road outside town and said, “This is where you get out. The house and the business are mine now.” I stood in the dust, clutching my bag, as he pulled away without looking back. No phone. No cash. And that’s when I realized—I wasn’t alone. I was free… but he had no idea what I’d put in place before his father passed away…
I was born Naomi Marie Blackwood, became Naomi Canton when I married Nicholas in 1981, and remained that person until three weeks ago, the day after we buried him. I’m 68 years old, with arthritic hands that still remember how to bake the sourdough bread my son Brandon used to beg for on Sunday…
