“I will see you at the bank at nine-thirty.”

I hung up and walked to the window.

The sky over Dallas was turning a bruised purple as the sun went down.

Downstairs, I heard the kitchen door open.

“Mom?”

It was Ruby’s voice, small and tentative.

I left my study and walked down the stairs.

Ruby and Hazel were sitting at the kitchen island.

Hazel was holding a bruised knee, her eyes red.

“What happened, sweetie?” I asked, rushing to her side.

“Grandmother Gloria was at the country club,” Ruby said, her voice shaking.

“She told Hazel she shouldn’t play on the tennis courts because she doesn’t have the coordination for it.”

“She said we were wasting our father’s money on lessons.”

“And she said we wouldn’t have a legacy anyway because we aren’t boys.”

I knelt down in front of Hazel and took her small hands in mine.

They were cold despite the summer heat.

“Listen to me,” I said, looking directly into her eyes.

“Your grandmother is wrong.”

“She has always been wrong.”

“You do not need her permission to occupy any space in this world.”