My brother decided to drop his kids off at my house without even asking—until the day Grandma’s old key finally failed him.

Trust.

He did not.

Damon had proposed selling the original workshop, shutting down the apprenticeship floor, and licensing the Callaway name to market luxury housing — with a personal consulting fee built in for himself.

The word fee landed harder than any insult could have.

Mom whispered, “It was just an idea.”

Grandpa looked continue reading …