“That aligns precisely with my thoughts.”
“I’m driving over this weekend,” she announced. “Do nothing until my arrival. Promise me, Grandpa—truly promise.”
I gave my word, and this time, adherence was absolute.
Katie arrived Saturday morning piloting her dented sedan, hauling a duffel bag as if relocating permanently. Pulling me into a tight embrace in the doorway, she carried the distinct scent of Ellen’s shampoo—a brand I later learned she purchased intentionally—forcing me to blink rapidly before releasing her.
Seated at the kitchen table over fresh coffee and notepads, we mapped our blueprint like international heist planners.
“First,” Katie outlined, “we secure ironclad evidence impervious to spin. The existing footage is solid, but redundancy builds security.”
“It’s already quite clear,” I noted.
“Clear to everyone, not just our household. Trust me.” Her pen tapped rhythmically against the pad. “Second—the consequence. It must humiliate without causing physical damage, executed publicly where social optics matter. Clark cares exclusively about appearances. That’s our leverage point.”
Nodding slowly, I appreciated her tactical mind, vastly outperforming her aging grandfather.
“I have an unconventional proposition,” I admitted.
“Unconventional is ideal. Proceed.”
