PART 1
“As soon as my grandfather blows out the candles, we will put the papers in front of him because he is happy today and he is not going to say no,” whispered a woman near the back porch.
Chloe stood completely motionless with a heavy pitcher of iced tea in her hands while listening to her mother speak. The voice belonged entirely to her mother, Sharon, who was standing just around the corner. A few feet away, under a red canvas tent rented for the occasion, Walter Miller was celebrating his seventy second birthday in the spacious backyard of the house he had built almost entirely with his own hands on the outskirts of Columbus, Ohio. There were large pans of pulled pork, creamy macaroni and cheese, baked beans, warm cornbread, and a large strawberry cake topped with seventy two burning candles.
Walter stood near the large maple tree in the lawn, laughing heartily with two former construction workers. For over forty years, he had worked tirelessly as a master bricklayer and building contractor in the area. He never became rich, but he owned a quiet house without a mortgage, a small commercial store downtown, and had saved a decent sum of money little by little over decades of hard labor.
