Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Before Timothy had even finished speaking with the family doctor for the Lawsons, his phone buzzed again—this time it was Naylor Lawson, sounding frantic.

"Timothy, you need to get to the hospital, quick! Your grandfather just collapsed!"

Timothy's response was curt. "If he's collapsed, call the doctor. What do you want me to do? I'm not a doctor-I can't treat him."

Without waiting for an answer, he hung up.

On the other end, Naylor glared at the phone in frustration. "That ungrateful brat! Even when his grandfather falls ill, he won't come home!"

Realizing his ruse wasn't working, Phelps opened his eyes and snapped, "You two, think of something! I want Timothy back here now!"

Naylor blinked, confused. "Dad, you're not even unconscious?"

Phelps shot him a glare. "What, disappointed I'm still breathing?"

Timothy won't come back-

hard-headed grandson- he wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a

the

want me to vandalize Hannah's

blessings of the departed mattered; you didn't mess around

afraid of Hannah's ghost coming for you at night, or of Timothy ending up

trouble with the law? No way. I

it."

"Are you trying to give me a stroke? Why else would ask you to touch Hannah's grave? Or do you think

shook his head. If even his father's stunt didn't work, there was no way his

me what else could possibly get Timothy back here right now? If you can't think of anything better, then talk it over with Timothy

and hez didn't dare ask anyone else to don such thing. Resigned, he gathered a few offerings and went to the cemetery himself. Setting them by Hannah's headstone, he fit a candle and whispered a prayer, explaining to Hannah

off his phone since he'd powered it on, expecting the family