I ran my dad’s gas station for twelve years while he borrowed against it to pay for my brother’s Cabo wedding and two divorce lawyers. When the bank finally took it, I bought it for $240,000. At our Fourth of July cookout, Mom cried, “That was promised to your brother,” and he kicked over the cooler. Two weeks later, his ex-wife walked in holding a folder and asked which half belonged to her…

“I’ll tell him.”

He smiled the way he used to when we were kids and he’d hidden something of mine.

“You won’t. You’ve never done anything in your life except stand behind that counter.”

I picked up the paper.

“I bought a gas station, Chance.”

Then I left.

A week passed.

Chance didn’t tell Dad.

Instead, Mom called again.

“Sunday. Two o’clock. Your brother’s house.”

“Why?”

“We’re settling this.”

“Settling what?”

“The station. I printed a deed. You’ll sign it over to Chance, and everybody can move on.”

I looked at the calendar.

Sunday was August thirty-first.

The next day was Labor Day.

Chance’s $60,000 payment was due.

“Will Dad be there?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll come.”

When I arrived Sunday afternoon, Mom was sitting at Chance’s kitchen table.

The kitchen walls were painted yellow.

Brandy had chosen that color when they first moved in, and Chance had never bothered changing it.

There was an enormous television in the living room and a leather couch that looked too large for the space.

Mom had arranged a printed deed, a pen, and a one-dollar bill neatly on the table.

Dad sat against the wall with his arms folded.

Chance was pacing.

“Sit down, honey,” Mom said. “This won’t take long.”

I sat across from her.

“Before I sign anything, I have a few questions.”

Mom sighed.

“Fine.”

“Once I transfer the station, who’s responsible for my loan?”

“Chance will take over the payments.”

I turned toward him.

“What’s the monthly payment?”

He stopped pacing.

“I don’t know the exact number.”

“Sixteen hundred forty dollars.”

He looked toward Mom.

“You can manage that?”

“I’ll borrow against the station.”

I rested my hands on the table.

“Borrow against a property that’s already financed?”

“For improvements,” he said.

I looked at him.

“What’s due tomorrow, Chance?”

He went still.

Mom frowned.

“What do you mean, tomorrow?”

“Labor Day,” Dad said quietly from his chair.

I nodded.

“Ask Chance what else happens tomorrow.”

Chance shook his head.

“Nothing. He’s making things up.”

I reached into my jacket and removed the two pages Brandy had shown me.

Then I stood and walked over to Dad.

I laid them on his knee.

“Read the handwritten part,” I said.

Dad reached into his shirt pocket.

He took out the old reading glasses I’d found in his toolbox, unfolded them, and put them on.

He read the statement slowly.

“Transfer of Doyle’s Service from my father. Christmas 2024. Will borrow against station to pay.”

He stopped.

The house was so quiet I could hear the television humming in the other room.

“I never said Christmas,” Dad said.

Chance stepped forward.

“You said it was mine.”

“When I’m done,” Dad answered. “I said when I’m done.”

Mom stood up.

“What is that paper?”

“Chance’s divorce financial statement,” I told her.

I pointed toward the page.

“He owes Brandy sixty thousand dollars for her share of this house. It’s due tomorrow, and he told the court he would pay it by borrowing against Dad’s station.”

Mom stared at Chance.

“You told me Brandy was trying to take your house.”

Chance’s face reddened.

“She wanted her half.”

“So you promised her your father’s business?” Mom asked.

“It was going to be mine anyway!”

Dad removed his glasses.

“The difference,” he said quietly, “is that it was still mine.”

He looked back at the document.

Then his eyes stopped on the attorney’s name.

“That’s the fellow from Kearney.”

I nodded.

“The one you borrowed twenty-four thousand dollars to pay.”

Dad put a hand over his mouth.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Mom turned toward me.

“You knew about this?”

“Yes.”

“And you let us come all the way here without telling your father?”

“I gave Chance two weeks to tell him himself.”

I looked at my brother.

“He had the chance. Instead, he had you print a deed.”

Mom opened her mouth.

I didn’t let her interrupt.

“You told me this station was promised to Chance. He was using it to settle his divorce before it was ever his.”

I looked toward Dad.

“Chance never pumped gas. He never handled a fuel order or cleaned the bathrooms. I ran that place for twelve years.”

My voice wasn’t loud.

I didn’t need it to be.

“Then the bank took it because of money borrowed for his wedding and lawyers. I used my savings and took out a business loan to buy it back.”

I looked at the one-dollar bill lying on the table.

“I paid for that station with twelve years of work. Then I paid for it again at the bank.”

Dad was staring at the papers.

Finally, he looked at me.

“Is there anything left against the old station?” he asked. “Anything I could still borrow to help him?”